Boy or Bear?

It appears our little Adam is going through a bit of an identity crisis. His idol right now is Winnie the Pooh. Before bedtime he and I always have a little cuddle time and a little Q&A about how his day went. I was asking the usual, "Did you see a plane?", "What did you eat?" and I threw in "What's your name?". His answer, "Pooh, name Pooh". I asked again to get it straight and then had Tim come in and ask. Again, "Pooh". We tried to explain his name is Adam. He shook his head emphatically, pointed to his chest and said, "Pooh, name Pooh!". We'll see how long this one lasts. I can already see me years down the road recounting this story to his first girlfriend! (j/k)

Two Much

I can hardly write fast enough to keep up with all the cute things Natalie and Adam say and do.. So here are a few...

Natalie:

"Mommy someday I will marry Moe (Adam) and we will dance together and play toys together. And I have a cake for us."

"If you ever see wolves chasing you you run away Moe!" (said randomly while playing one day- what goes on in that little head?)

Said often during dinner: "Mom did you know you can make your food dance?" (proceeds to make her forkful of chicken or biscuit dance)

While watching Adam painstakingly try on one of her plastic dress up heels, "I think that looks very handsome for boys."

One day I walked in on her dancing with her pillow. She looked at me and said solemnly,"Do you know some people like to dance with pillows Mom?"

"If you ever see a dog you just give him a jellybean."

"My name is 'Kiss' and Moe is named 'Hug."

"I'm real right Mom? I'm not made out of wood?"

Adam:

Is frequently found clomping around the house in one of my slippers or heels or one of Daddy's sneakers.

His favorite song is the B-I-B-L-E and he puts the most emphasis on the E!.

Particularly enjoys dipping all of his food in whatever's available, says "Bip!" as he does it.

Sings the entire Itsy Bitsy Spider complete with hand motions.

Attempts to chase planes in the backyard yelling "Pwane, Fwy! Pwane, Fwy!" (plane, fly), we believe he thinks he can fly too if only he runs fast enough.

When he feels it has been too long since he has connected with me he comes trudging down the hall to find me calling "Ma, ma, ma!" and puckering up for a kiss.

It's the Great Pumpkin...

As you can see we spent this past weekend at a pumpkin patch. Some notable moments including Natalie falling flat into a large, rotted pumpkin, then she was involved in a minor accident involving the cart and a few more pumpkins, the cart careened and she went flying out.

Adam fell in love with several varieties of squash which kept him occupied for all of 15 minutes then he began to sob, trudging through the patch after me. Tim was bravely attempting to maneuver cart and corral kids while I searched in vain for the "perfect pumpkin".

After 45 minutes in the harsh sun and tripping through several miles of pumpkin wasteland we gathered up some small Boo (white) pumpkins and headed for the barn to snatch up some of their perfect picks. All in all we laughed, we cried, we fell down, we drained ourselves of all energy and most importantly, we had a blast!

Happy Pumpkin Hunting one and all!

A Beautiful Mess

I have a longstanding date. Every afternoon once the little man is tucked in bed and before our budding artist is down for some quiet time, she and I splash some color on the canvas and enjoy silly conversations and quite a few giggles. We began to notice awhile back that Natalie was pretending everything was a paintbrush, everything needed to be painted.

After purchasing some paints and small brushes it was clear she is very artistic. Her artwork is just like her personality; bold, colorful, uninhibited. Whereas I neatly pour circles of color in rows on the tray and carefully outline a bird or a flower on the paper, Natalie swirls the colors together with abandon, paying no attention to order and splashes globs and blobs of color all over my neat rows of blooms.
At first I felt a little frustrated, longing to show her how to be patient and work slowly till she created the picture in her mind, work carefully with one color at a time, don't paint over a well drawn picture. It was hard to keep my mouth shut when she would lean laughing on my knee, paintbrush slopping all over my pants to whisper in my ear or show me an idea. I was hard pressed not to watch the clock, willing the timer to sound for quiet in our home, when I could clean up the mess and order would return.

And then it hit me. It is a mess to me but to her it is beautiful. "Isn't that wonderful Mom?", she asked me, gesturing towards an unrecognizable smear of browns and blues and lilacs. "See what I did?" And to her it was wonderful. Beautiful. A beautiful mess. While I was concerned with cleaning and neatness she was enjoying the experience. Not worrying what came next or how it would all turn out. Enjoying every minute.

As I thought more about it the painting looked a lot like my life. Swirling through the days, a punch of color here, add some exciting events, a little mundane housework and billpaying, glop on a little marital tension and late nights and you've got yourself a mess.

That is if you leave out the moments of breathless wonder as our boy strings a sentence together or learns to run, or the belly laughs when Natalie does crazy somersaults down the hallway, or still getting butterflies when my husband takes my hand or gives me tiny kisses all over my face. Those things are what makes the mess beautiful. Most beautiful of all because a Master painter is at work and to my great relief he isn't finished yet.

All the World's A Stage..

It is with some anticipation and much misgiving that I prepare to watch the Vice Presidential Debate this evening.

Home

"There's nothing half so pleasant as coming home again." -Margaret E. Sangster

I remember the old verse, "Thirty days hath September...", but this September has felt like a lot more than 30 days! We have been all over the place, had quite a few people over our place and now we are home!

The past two weekends we have been in Williamsburg, VA and Myrtle Beach, SC while Tim has conducted a Single Soldier Retreat and a Marriage Retreat. We have logged more miles on our old gray van and added more crumbs to the carseats. We have lost many more hours of sleep, despite the ever present Superbed (we push both hotel room beds together)and eaten more pizza than we could handle. But most importantly we have made some memories we won't soon forget.

It's always exciting to set out on yet another adventure. Exciting that is for the 5 minutes between all the packing and planning and preparing and attempting to settle everyone comfortably, with nary a whine, into the car and the moment someone begins lunging out of their carseat, straining against the straps and reaching wildly for handholds. Then the excitement begins to ebb a teensy bit. Once stomachs are full and tired eyes shut for the briefest of snoozes, a warm Starbucks resting in our hands and the open road before us, the light of anticipation flickers once more. We talk and laugh and dream, remembering early days and less complicated times and we've got quite a blaze going. All too soon the stillness is broken. But with relief we see how much good the nap has done and we play a round of "I Spy" or sing the ABC song merrily together. And so goes the rest of our journey.

Cheerful hours marked by swirling emotions and frequent scampering anywhere but in the right direction. Many attempts to create a magical space out of a simple hotel room with two beds and a window. We make blanket forts, pretend the beds are boats in crocodile infested waters, play marching and follow the leader, explore the hotel inside and out, make friends with most of its inhabitants and make an effort to get a nap in the midst of it all. More than anything else these little trips make us appreciate home. A place where there is room to run, space to grow, where people let you be you. So bring on the trips, especially the glad homecomings to follow.

Our Girl

Where has time gone? On golden wings it has flown past before we could catch our breath. Our little Natalie; the baby of our early years is 3 years old. So tall and slim. She has pretty much lost all of the chubbiness, her babyness.

I have been spectator to these changes for many months, how she can barely stretch her legs in her toddler bed, how her pants have begun ankle grazing. I have noticed often with wonder that the look of her is somehow new, different. New but familiar. For in the midst of this blossoming little girl I still see glimpses of that same pink cheeked baby she once was.

In the heat of a struggle to get her own way I watch her eyes soften, her lips change from pout to that same impish grin and I flash to when she was only a bundle in my arms. Those first nights when Tim would swaddle her tenderly and we would sing one more lullaby before settling in her basket to sleep. Calm and quiet, she gazed up at us, serene, composed.

I catch glimpses of that same serenity here and there, coupled now with a tenacity, the urge to push past the limits of her small frame and be something more. At times she will stand up on tippy toes, "See mommy I'm bigger now, I growed up." Others she will whimper for me to hold her like I once did. No longer does she fit so neatly in my arms, it's much harder for her to curl up in my lap. Cuddles are not quite as frequent, for she is busy now. Busy in play and growing up.

At night sometimes I lie in bed, unable to sleep, wondering if I'm doing right by her. I remember the clashes, the new sense of identity she wrestles to understand,my exhaustion and wishing for the agreeableness she once had, then the unexpected hugs, little soft kisses all over my face. "See mommy, I'm walking just like you." "Listen mommy, I will tell you some secrets." "I Love You..You are my special friend!". "We are both the same, mommy; I'm just like you!"

The familiar lump fills my throat and I sink further back on my pillows. In my mind I see her through the years, a crawling infant, then walking, running up and down the hall and now skipping. I race ahead to when she is no longer a girl. What will she be like? Mostly sugar and smiles it's been with her. Lately more and more of a wrestle for power, but still that softness, creeping in and bringing welcome relief, like sunset after a long, hot day. "Okay mommy, I will be a good listener."

Do I wish her back to babyhood? Maybe for a few brief moments each day. It was beautiful, daresay magical those first moments as a mommy to this wonderful girl. But it has only gotten better. Richer. We have grown together she and I. Not yet ready to watch her fly away. Not for awhile longer yet. Right now I will revel in her questions, "Mommy, why is the sky blue?", "Mommy why does Jesus love me?", her cheerful team spirit, "Follow me Moe (her nickname for Adam)I will show you the way", her endless singing of the alphabet song at the top of her lungs in public places, her crazy mop of curls that refuses to be tamed, somehow fitting for a girl like our Natalie.

For a few more years we will make the nightly journey to check on her one last time before turning in, marveling at what a big girl she is now, reminiscing over happenings of the day. We will await her chipper early morning "Hello, mommy!", clambering over me to cuddle in between us, dragging stuffed dinosaur, blanket, pillows and toys to join us. We will treasure a few more rounds of Ring around the Rosy, snatch up a few more bathtime sing a longs and visions of her in footed jammies reading to her stuffed animals. A full, beautiful world awaits you, but for now we are content to have you filling our little home with your magic. Happy 3rd year our little Natalie!