WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

Hey, y'all -

We decided to spend the day yesterday at the Blue Mountain Recreation Area, sledding with friends. I have some girlfriends who have never tried cross-country skiing or snowshoeing or snow tubing, so your dad and I loaded up all of our gear and invited everyone to meet us up there to try it all out. We even took a tub of firewood, because we knew we'd find a great spot with a fire pit.

Hagen, you fell asleep on the way there, but Laney was raring to go. As she went tubing by herself, we let you continue sleeping in the backseat of the car, parked next to the fire. After an hour of solid fun, I leaned into the backseat and gently shook you awake. "We're having great fun out here," I said, "Do you want to come out and play with us?" "No!" you said, "I just wanna stay here in the car." So I left you there.

Every few minutes, I'd wave to you through the windshield, and you'd shake your head "Nopenopenope." You did not want to participate. This came as no shock to me, because your teacher Miss Julie - who was there sledding with us - has sent me a whole photo portfolio of "Hagen Does Not Wish To Participate" moments, including "Hagen Konks Out During Storytime" and "Hagen Relaxes His Way Through Recess."

(you're the little cozy brown blob, on your teacher's right). 

I went back to the car and tried again, "Don't you want to sled? Or see the fire? Or eat a toasted marshmallow?" "No. No. No." "Okay, what if you get out and Miss Julie snuggles you while you sleep?" "Okay." So...you WILL participate if there's a pretty blonde lady who will snuggle you.

Then, of course, your best friend Finley showed up and you were ready to party. Or at least stand by the fire, talking like old men and eating half a bag of marshmallows.

_______

The snow had melted and frozen over so many times on the hill that the conditions were super-slick and there were a few times I thought we'd have to chase you both down to I-90. Your dad did so many great runs with all the kids, and a fantastic afternoon was had by all. See:

Love,
Mom

Christmas

Hey, y'all - 

December 2015 was a whirlwind of holiday activities. Seemed like every day one of you had a themed event at your school that required an outfit or a prop or the attendance of one or more parents. You both had Holiday Concerts at your school on the same day, two hours apart. 

First, Laney:

That's you in the second row, with your hands up in the air, under the "Be Responsible" bulletin board. Last year, you surprised us by having a solo. This year, you told us you weren't going to be singing by yourself. Instead, you shocked us by having an xylophone solo to an uptempo number about Hanukkah. Did not know you could play the xylophone. I don't have a picture of it, because you were on the ground in front of that guy with the long braid and I couldn't see you, but you sounded great (or as great as a 6 yr old xylophone player accompanying a bleacher full of elementary schoolers shouting about spinning dreidels should sound). 

...And here's your class singing "All I Want For Christmas Is My Two Front Teeth" - 

Then, we went back to your classroom to ooh and aah over your Christmas crafts, including this Christmas tree made out of an inverted ice cream cone coated in green frosting. 

I also got to see you with your best friend (as of 12/21, 1:32pm - subject to change without notice). Please note that I married your dad because I knew I would be getting a lifetime of love and support, and NOT because I thought I'd be getting tall children. 

Then, it was on to your school, Hagen:

Pains me to admit it, but I told your dad to skip this one. Last year, you sat in a circle with the rest of the kids in your class, but looked around like you had NO IDEA why everyone was singing or why you were there. In 2014, you greeted your Holiday Concert with a 1000-yard stare, like you were trapped in a bad flash mob, and we counted the minutes 'til we could grab your stuff and go. I figured this year would be a repeat performance, and it was safe for your dad to go back to work. 

NOPE!

This year, you hollered out the words to every song, and did all the choreography, plus some. 

After every song, you ran to me in the front row and yelled in my face, "CAN YOU HEAR ME SINGING UP THERE?!?" "Yes, baby, now go sing some more!" "I'M ON IT!" 

And then you'd run back into position and belt out another Christmas standard. 

I love love love in that last photo how that boy behind you is stuck in his shirt. 

____________________

You two spent most nights in December sharing a bed. We put Hagen's old crib mattress under the bed in Laney's room and used it like a fake trundle bed. But many nights, you just climbed in bed together. 

Two Burbachs, dressed in fleece, wrapped in a blanket and snuggled together can top out a thermometer. Your dad pulled back the blanket one night and said, "It's so hot and sweaty in there, it's like they're trying to make kimchee." It was an absolutely disgusting thing to say, but I laughed for half an hour. 

_________________________

I wanted a family photo for our Christmas card this year, so one day in late November, I loaded up the family and the tripod and made your dad go to the park for a DIY photo session. 

I had to shoot my own Christmas photo with a remote control (as seen below). The cobbler's children have no shoes blah blah blah. 

___________________________

Christmas morning was a great, low-key affair. 

For the first time since Laney was born, we didn't have company on Christmas (Grandma Sue doesn't count, since she lives 198 steps away). 

Once again, Laney set a speed record for opening presents, while Hagen opened four or five and said he was done. He left the rest unopened under the tree for most of the day - I would almost suspect he was doing it to make his sister bonkers. 

Laney got the panda sleeping bag she wanted and Hagen got an assortment of Transformers and everyone was happy. I got your dad a Fitbit, so I've pulled him into my walking competitions, and he got me a Kindle, which I'm LOVING. 

Peg Peg got you each some Santa pajamas, and asked me to take your picture, so here goes:

God bless us, every one. 

Love,

Mom

Bummer Bummer, Little Star

Goodness gracious, y'all -

Earlier this year, HBO aired the second season of a show called "True Detective." You should never watch it - mostly because it's inappropriate for children, but also because it was just plain boring and packed with characters without a single redeeming quality and had a completely meandering plot. BUT I thought of it last night because there was a bar in the show where a singer-songwriter would perform the MOST DEPRESSING music you've ever heard in your life. One internet commenter called it Depressing Dirges For Dive Bars.

This is how Twinkle Twinkle Little Star would be played there:

...On a ukelele that's missing half its strings, in a minor key, slowed down for maximum gravitas, with reimagined lyrics in the corner of a poorly-lit room, with just a promising enough finish to make me tune into the next episode. 

Nice work, you mini hipsters. You always keep me tuned in.

Love,

Mom

Laney's Got a Phone

Dear Laney,

Since we moved into "town" three years ago, we haven't had a home phone. Our cell phones work just fine, and we didn't see the need to have a landline (so millennial of us, I know). But every once in a while, I would think how much easier it would be to teach you and Hagen a 7-digit home number instead of trying to explain, "If you're ever lost, you'll probably be scared and confused and you'll need to remember these ten digits in this order..." 

So when our cable company offered us a free home phone line as part of a service bundle, we figured, "Why not?" For fun, we told you it could be YOUR phone, and we taught you the number in case of emergencies. I should have known you'd take to a new communication device like a dog takes to ham. 

I programmed in all the grandparents' phone numbers, and the numbers for your best buddies, and you have no problem scrolling through the menu and ringing people up. I'll admit it's a little disconcerting to see "Laney Burbach" on my caller ID when I'm traveling. 

For a minute, I thought, "Maybe we were being ridiculous, telling a first grader that she could have a phone," but it has already paid off in a couple of fabulous ways:

1) You dad hates talking on the phone, which is fine, because he's terrible at it. Now when I go on a business trip or even if I've gone to the grocery store and realize I've forgotten my shopping list, I don't even bother calling your dad - I call you. I had to go to Palm Springs a few weeks ago for work, and was having lunch there with my friend, Brian. I explained to Brian how great it was to call you on the phone. "She always answers between the first and second ring," I told him, "And she'll be happy to tell you everything that happened to her all day long, usually starting with, 'It was good good good good...' I highly recommend it."

Knowing that you love a good knock-knock joke, Brian looked some up and called you on your number. Sure enough, you answered immediately. It went like this:

Brian: "Knock-knock"

Laney: (click)

I called you right back and explained, "That was Brian calling. He just wanted to tell you some jokes." "Oh," you said, "I just knew it was some strange boy trying to tell me knock-knock jokes, and I didn't want to hear it, so I hung up."

It took me 30+ years to learn I could just hang up on strange boys I didn't want to talk to, so bravo!

2) Your grandmother Peg-Peg is a little Disney-crazy. We have a trip to Disney World coming up on the calendar, which means that months and months ahead of time, Peg has been wanting to talk about where we could have lunch on a distant Wednesday at 1pm. Since I normally don't know what I want to eat thirty minutes from now, I have no real opinion on the Hoop-Dee-Doo Musical Revue vs anywhere else. Now, I have a phone number to give Peg Peg where she can reach someone who's willing to hold the phone and twirl her hair and discuss the relative merits of a Rapunzel meet n' greet. Outsourcing!

Love,

Mom

Letter to Santa / Text To The Teacher

Dear Laney,

I can't tell you how much we love your first grade teacher. 

Stuff You're Into: Birthday Edition

Dear Hagen,

Incredible to believe, but you're turning 4 in a few weeks. I feel like you should still be 2; 2 sounds right. I thought we'd take a moment to discuss some of the things you're doing and enjoying these days, so I don't forget:

1) "CHEEEEEEEEEEESE!" It's the best and worst thing ever, all at once.

2) BEING CHARMING AS HECK - Your dad and I are already discussing that it's only a matter of time before girls start calling our house. Your dad took you to a place called "The Man Cave" (I know) to get your hair cut a few weeks ago, and sent me this picture. It was your first time to have your hair cut professionally - usually I do it with the clippers in the yard and it's free and you get a popsicle and everyone's happy. But you wanted to go and sit in the "spinny chair." According to your dad, you talked to the ladies in the barber shop the whole time you were there.

Then, when your haircut was over, the stylist said, "You are just the cutest! Are you going to come back and see me?" According to your dad, you said, "Sure. I just need to let my hair grow a little first."

We met up with some friends downtown last weekend, and you hugged 9 year-old Ora's neck and told her you'd missed her and then YOU KISSED HER HAND. I have no idea where you got that. Ora's mom looked at me and said, "He's already got more game than his dad," which is true (sorry, Thor.)

I took you with me a few days later when it was Laney's turn for a new hairdo, and you entertained HER hairstylist, too. 

When Laney's haircut was finished, Morgan the stylist said, "You are just ADORABLE! Can I play with your hair, too?" And you hopped right on over.

 Basically, everyone who meets you wants to eat you up with a spoon.

3) TRANSFORMERS - Still. I refuse to donate any more column inches to those things, but trust that I know the difference between an Autobot and a Decepticon. You only put one thing on your Christmas list this year: "A robot that can turn into a dinosaur that is also a race car but is a good guy."

When you're playing with your Transformers, you make gun sounds like this: "PUH-CHEW! PUH CHEW!" You warn the bad guys that they'd better not give you trouble, or you'll "puh-chew" them. It's the cutest thing ever,  probably because it's so unrealistic. It definitely doesn't bode well for your future as a Foley artist.

4) PLAYING WITH YOUR SISTER - I can't believe how lucky we are that you get along so well. I think 90% of our success is because you're so easygoing and willing to perform whatever role she assigns you. Lately, you're always the student and she's the teacher. When I advocate for you: "Say, Laney, why don't you let Hagen have a turn to be the teacher?" Laney always says, "What if he's the teacher's helper?" This is totally a scam because the "teacher's helper" gets told what to do just as often as the "student" does. But you seem happy with the fake promotion.

This morning at 3:00am, I woke up because I heard you two playing with LEGOs* downstairs in your room. Seems you couldn't sleep, so you came upstairs and woke Laney up and you guys thought it would be totally appropriate in the middle of the night to head downstairs together and start building a fortress. I stomped down there to break up the fun and when I got to your door, you were both silent and still, hiding under the covers. Like, who did you think you were fooling? I made you both go to your own respective rooms and turn out the lights, while also saying a quick prayer that you always have that kind of fun together. 

5) YOUR BEST FRIEND, FINLEY - The bromance continues. 

At the brewery the other day, while the adults were catching up, I watched the two of you get a bucket of board games out and silently work together to put together "Boggle." You don't fuss, you don't negotiate...you just have a mutual interest in putting stuff together and making it work. 

6) STICKS. Especially if they have magical powers. 

7) TAKING YOUR SWEET TIME - You are never in a hurry. Ever. We went to your parent-teacher conference a little while ago, and your teacher said, "I LOVE HAGEN! He's the sweetest, and so easy-going and just loves to snuggle. I shouldn't say this, but he's definitely one of my favorites!" "But?" I asked. "But," she continued, "...You can't rush him." I said, "Like you want to look at that sweet little face and yell, 'FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT'S HOLY, CAN YOU PLEASE PUT ON YOUR DAMN SHOES?!?'" And she nodded like she knew exactly what I was talking about. 

Your school divides all the kids into two groups: The Nappers and the Non-Nappers. There are two lunch periods...first the Non-Nappers eat and then head out to the park so the school will be quiet. Then, the Nappers eat before settling down to rest. Last month, you asked me if you could make the transition from Napper to Non-Napper. I called the school and asked your teacher, "Would it be a big deal to add Hagen to the Non-Nappers?" "No problem!" she assured me. "It takes him so long to eat, we had already added him to that first lunch...and then he just stays through the second." That's right: two lunch periods, because it takes you an hour to eat some chicken fingers. 

8) BEING THE COOLEST GUY I KNOW.

Love,

Mom

* I know that the plural of LEGO is LEGO and not LEGOs, but it sounds so weird, I'm choosing to ignore it.

Halloween

Hey y'all - 

In what is becoming a Halloween tradition, Laney started the day at school dressed as one thing (in this case: a cat) and ended the day by trick-or-treating as something else...

A hula girl. Because it's Montana, she was a hula girl with a warm base layer and rain boots. 

Hagen was happy to be a dragon and stay that way. 

I decided to dress up as a witch. Note to self: The 99-cent green make-up at Target is NOT a bargain, because you'll have to put on nine layers and still won't get good coverage. 2nd note to self: Why the hell are you dressing up, anyway, since all you'll doing is walking down a dark street watching your children ask strangers for candy?

Your dad has this (oh, let's say) quirky habit of disappearing into the garage for long stretches without telling us where he's going or what he's working on. That's usually a good indication that he's working on something ridiculous. In this case, your dad decided on Halloween that your visiting Uncle Nate needed a costume, too, and spent an hour crafting this Ghostbusters get-up:

I've never seen anyone so happy to be holding a homemade ghost containment unit. Your dad was a Jedi or something. Some "Star Wars" person. I refuse to inform myself on this point. 

Hagen, your dad and I often notice that you have the manners and disposition (and work ethic) of an 80 year-old man. Lots of lying around, snuggling and snacking. "Roll that window up!" you tell me in the car, like I'm crazy, "It's COLD out there!" I say that as an intro to my favorite moment from trick-or-treating...

You and the friends you were trick-or-treating with knocked on the door of a house with an ample porch and some nice patio furniture. While every other kid yelled "TRICK OR TREAT!" at the woman at the door, you rubbed the cushions of her outdoor sofa and asked "Is dis your couch?" When she admitted it was, you said, "It looks SO COZY..." and started to climb on this woman's sofa in your dragon outfit, presumably so you could take a load off. We had to come scoop you up, put you back on the path to the next house, and remind you to get your game face on. 

Yeah, that's the one. 

Love,

Mom