Today is Tom’s birthday. Perhaps the biggest gift of all was that we shipped out the last of over 600 items that have been consuming us for the past two weeks.
We are looking forward to a weekend of where the only shirts we handle are the ones on our backs.
I remember from my childhood having hours on end where I played with my sisters. So far in my parenting career, I haven’t seen a whole lot of what I remember. Playing has been a lot of parallel play and negotiating whose turn it is to have what. I know they’re still young, but I’m ready for that “playmate” thing to kick in.
Recently, Neko and Shep have been playing together a lot more, but Neko is clearly in charge, and after a while it often ends in tears because Shep doesn’t want to do what Neko is telling him to do or Shep is being two and Neko doesn’t like that.
Today Gregory came over to play. We’ve been in playgroup with Gregory for some time now, but, historically, playgroup for Neko is often a time where she goes into a fabulous new house, finds toys she’s never seen before, and hides in a corner, glaring at anyone who approaches her. Okay, this was true more of when she was two and three, but I see that tendency flare up every now and then.
Neko is very imaginative in her play. She makes up all sorts of games and play on her own, but I’ve rarely seen it with other kids besides Shep. But today, for one of the first times, she and Gregory played creatively together. It started with the railroad, delivering boxes from one end of the track to the other. But then I brought out the Playmobil grocery store, and then they started delivering groceries from one end to the other. So then they needed houses to deliver to, so we brought out houses, and then they decided today was Thanksgiving, so it was really important for everyone to get their groceries before the store closed. Suddenly there were construction vehicles and airplanes and the post office, and all kinds of deliveries and activity going on.
This kept them busy for nearly two hours while, thankfully, Ellery and Shep napped, leaving them undisturbed. There was even a point where, noticing I wasn’t needed any more, I slipped away and unloaded the dishwasher and folded some laundry. And at that moment, looking back at them hard at work, I started to think I’m beginning to see those play-filled Saturdays I remember from my childhood.
Recently, Tom unearthed a bunch of DVDs in the basement. He pulled out Yellow Submarine, and nostalgically put it on for the kids. He quickly realized there’s some adult stuff that maybe shouldn’t be viewed by kids, but Neko and Shep were entranced. He edited out all the inappropriate stuff, and now the kids can’t get enough of it.
A few days later, he managed to find his collection of Beatles figurines. They spent years on display in our old house, but Tom decided he’d rather see them played with.
Now, Shep isn’t much a of a toy kid. There are few things, other than his guitar, that he’s really latched onto. But he loves these Beatles characters. We keep finding him in front of the computer, watching Yellow Submarine with his friends, John, Paul, George, and Ringo.
Congratulations to Anne and John, who welcomed baby Ronan late last night. As soon as I shake this cold and cough, I plan to make my way over and get a good fix of newborn baby-liciousness.
Tomorrow is Tom’s birthday, but he’ll be working all day and we’re going out to dinner that night, so there’s really no time for celebratory cake. So I decided to make one today.
But he recently confessed that he hates all cakes out of a box, and really only wants a homemade cake. But I didn’t have time to research some fabulous recipe, so instead, I made an apple pie. From scratch. Even the crust!
And just in case my love for this man was ever in doubt, I must point out that all the stars aligned in that magic way, and all three of my children had quiet time for 90 minutes at the same time, which never, ever happens. And I spent the entire time making a pie for Tom’s birthday.
That, my friends, is true love.
It was nice while it lasted. We’ve had an extended honeymoon period with Ellery. For the most part, if you haven’t seen her for a while, you can just assume she’s contently working on her thesis in a corner or some equally tranquil activity. This is the polar opposite of Neko and Shep, who if you didn’t see them for five minutes, had managed to deconstruct the entire infrastructure of our house in that time.
Anyway, I’ve gotten quite comfortable with her relaxed state of being, and am begrudgingly admitting that I may have to actually put up a gate or two and make sure I close the door to the pantry. Sheesh.
We’re kinda in survival mode around here. All my quality parenting skills have gone to the dogs, and I’m just trying to figure out how to get through the days, since the nights hold hours of folding, tagging, and preparing packages. Good news for the business, not so good for the kids, as I’m tired and grouchy.
I decided to take off for the the Other Big City, since I recently discovered their children’s museum honors our children’s museum membership. At the end of the day, the kids are logging about 2.5 hours in the car, but we made it through until dinner, the kids got an enriching experience (when not in the car), and I got to chit-chat with Anne on the way there (still no baby) and Marlo during the drive home.
I only took one crappy photo on the iPhone, which was awful, so instead you can just imagine me, unshowered in the midst of three antsy kids at a museum.
My car was due for its 30,000 mile service, an appointment that lasts three hours…an insanely long time to wait in that little room, but not enough time for a loaner.
I made the appointment for 8am, which would get me back in time to pick Neko up at school. I had plans for all kinds of things to keep Shep occupied, but at the last minute Barb was able to take him. So with just my baby who’s perfectly content in a stroller, we walked about a mile to Panera, ate breakfast (soufflé for me, cheerios for Ellery), and then wandered over to Target. I was almost shocked when they called me in the middle of aisle 12 to tell me my car was ready.
I don’t think a 30,000 mile check-up has ever been so pleasant.
This post should be full of idyllic photos of us getting our Christmas tree, but instead I will treat you to an iPhone photo of us driving through the very mediocre drive-thru Xmas lights display put on by the local parks system. (We can all later discuss the irony of an organization that encourages preserving our ecosystem coordinating an event that puts hundreds of people idling their carbon-monoxide producing vehicles in the middle of a national forest.)
Anyway, the reason we ended up there was that on both Saturday and Sunday we attempted to get a Christmas tree, and as we got within a five-mile radius of the Christmas tree farm, Mother Nature sat back with a big belly laugh and threw torrential rain in our general direction.
By Sunday night we owed the kids some sort of holiday experience, so we waited in this endless line to see Christmas lights in the shape of mostly totally un-holiday like stuff, like Beauty and the Beast and Alice in Wonderland.
Next weekend we are getting a tree, weather conditions be damned.
When I was a teenager, I had braces. My mouth is small, so they pulled a bunch of teeth and shoved them all together in a nice, straight line.
When I was in my late twenties, I got braces again. (The teeth had started to move, healthier bite, TMJ, blahblahblah.) They put in this contraption and stretched my jaw apart, because that’s what they do now. So then I got these big gaps where my teeth used to be. The plan was to get implants (teeth, that is) shortly after the braces came off.
But then I got pregnant. And then I was breast-feeding. This made the implants impossible because it’s a several month process and involves several rounds of anesthesia. There’s a much longer story about incorrectly made retainers and opening up spaces, but, essentially, this cycle repeated from Neko on down to Ellery.
So I finally went for my consultation to get my implants, only to discover that, although the teeth have remained properly spaced apart, the roots have crept over into the gums above the gap. Bottom line…no implants unless the roots are moved. My choices? Destroy four perfectly good teeth to accommodate two bridges or go back into braces.
So on December 19th I get braces again. Feel free to consider it a day of mourning.