On "Lasts:" Kindergarten Edition

Last soccer game of the season.

I am not good at lasts.

Last days, specifically.

I suspect that having four children, I will need to toughen up about this, as there will be a lot of "lasts."

Yesterday, after having to reschedule once (cue the working mommy guilt), I was finally able to go to Ellie's class mid-day to read a book in honor of her July 12 birthday, which takes place when school is out. They've banned cupcakes or treats of any kind for celebrations, offering up "come in to read a book to the class" as an alternative. So a few weeks ago we went book shopping (with plans to donate) the aptly titled A Year With Friends to Ms. M's kindergarten class.

As I sat in the teacher's chair, looking down at the sea of cross legged children on the faded "ABCs" carpet, pink cheeked and sweaty and hair rumpled from recess where they'd just emerged, I did my best to breathe in the moment. The last time I would see Ellie and her classmates in kindergarten. The last days of her ever being a kindergartener.


The eve of the last day.


Thank goodness the day before Ellie's last day of kindergarten also coincided with the greatly anticipated School Fair (rescheduled twice due to one of the rainiest Junes on record).

A great time was had by all, for sure. At the end of the day, when Erin asked her about the fair, Ellie's answer was, "I had one hundred percent fun!"

It was a festive distraction  from the melancholy that I assumed was only felt by me (and a welcome chance for Ellie and I to have some rare one-on-one time). Imagine my surprise, when thirty minutes after bedtime last night, I was greeted with a very teary (and most likely way overtired) Ellie.

What's wrong? I asked her, trying to stifle my own emotions. Seeing her so upset had me upset!

I'm never going to see see Ms. M. again! And I'm never going to kindergarten again (Ms. M. is taking a job as a librarian at another school in our town).

I was caught off guard by Ellie's emotions and probably to no one's surprise, found myself getting a little teary myself. We hugged and I rubbed her back and we talked about how she could visit Ms. M and send her a letter over the summer wishing her good luck on her new job. I rubbed Ellie's back for a few minutes longer.

Try to think about the summer, about all the fun you're going to have at camp, I suggested.

"I don't want to think about the summer!" Ellie wailed. More tears.

I paused a minute. Let her be sad, I said to myself. It's OK.



This week much of Ellie's art work and Very Important Papers from the school year came home, including this gem, which I am still swooning over. I believe it to be frame worthy. Oh, what I wouldn't give to have the self-confidence of an almost six year old.

I know I'm a sentimental person by nature, but there is something very precious and bittersweet about kindergarten. They are, after all, still SO little. Most of them start school as five year olds, some of them have never even been to school before (though that's admittedly less common these days). There is still a bit of baby in them, I think. A lot of baby, really. I know they have to grow up. Of course I want Ellie to grow up. But I see those big tough first grade girls at drop off every morning. And I know what's looming: complicated girl friendships, hurt feelings, cliques. Good things too, of course: sleepovers where they stay up talking all night, greater independence, deeper friendships.


Last day of soccer, June 16, 2013

I know, I know. In the fall she's going to first grade one floor away from where she went to kindergarten, she's not going to military school. I'm so proud of this girl, who learned to read (learned to read!), embraced her new school, made a sweet little group of friends and by all accounts, had a fabulous year of kindergarten. In the last year I have seen such a change in her awareness, her empathy, her willingness to help around the house. Much of this is in relation to her younger siblings, whom she adores (two years later I am still waiting for jealousy and I've yet to see it). Her new favorite thing to do is read books to them (they usually toddle off before the first page, but she gets credit for trying).

And if I didn't know that I get to do kindergarten all over again with Harry and Lucy, well, let's just say I'd probably be a much bigger mess than I am today.

And Then Ellie Finished Kindergarten (But Not Really)

I have a bajillion (at least) pictures of Harry and Lucy's intimate, casual birthday soiree that I have yet to edit, so stay tuned for that.

It's been a hectic few days, between the double birthday, a whirlwind visit by the Oregon grandparents and multiple trips to the vet to manage a bit of a health crisis had by our eleven year old golden retriever, Ruby (because, you know, never a dull moment!). Let's just say that involved opening a vet credit card (a first for us-woo-hoo!), a hefty bag of medication and a large box of rubber gloves. In other news, Erin is the best vet technician out there as she gamely agreed to administer all medications (bless her, truly).


In the midst of all of this? Ellie graduated from kindergarten. And of course, wore a crown for the occasion. Because, why not?

Technically, school isn't over yet and won't be for a few more weeks, so she's still a kindergartener. But last Friday morning, we all gathered in the ten thousand degree "multi-purpose room" (see my shiniest forehead ever, above) at her school to watch about sixty, five and six year olds sing such favorites as "Bye, Bye Baby Tooth" and "The ABC Song."

Unlike Leo's kindergarten graduation three years ago, there was no cap wearing or "Pomp and Circumstance" playing (Thank goodness because, A) Seems a bit much for five year olds and B) My delicate, emotional constitution simply can't take it). As it was, there were tears.

But I was pretty good.  I only cried a little.

Sunrise, Sunset: Back to School

Aaaaand we're back from the Great Oregon Vacation (otherwise known as Sleep is for the Weak).

And our return means one thing: School.

Leo, first day of third grade

Ye Annual First Day of School Portrait by the Front Tree. Can someone please tell me where these giant children came from?

Walking Ellie to kindergarten (OMG, OMG, Breathe--that's me I'm talking to--she was of course, cool as a cucumber). This photo, blurry as it is, really sums it up for me. It could have been taken from a merry-go-round, which, I'll admit, is sometimes how life feels, spinning and spinning, sometimes (often) a little out of control.

Time, it flies. It just keeps marching on and on and on, ready or not, like it or not.

Ellie, first day of kindergarten

I was a little unprepared for how emotional I felt this morning, when I gave Ellie a hug and a kiss and a squeeze and an "I'm so proud of you, I can't wait to hear about your day!"

After all, I've been dropping her off at "school" for more than four and a half years but this...felt different. This is an entirely new beginning. The door on Ellie's baby and toddler and preschooldom has been slammed shut forever. It's wonderful and inevitable, of course, but it stings a little. The beginning of this new life for Ellie is thrilling but yes, it does leave me humming "Sunrise, Sunset." Because really, where does the time go? I know that I will be turning around in a few years as I drop Harry and Lucy off at kindergarten, asking myself the same damn thing.

This morning I lingered for a few minutes in the school yard after Ellie and I said our goodbyes, careful that she not see me. I wasn't sure what to do. Should I stay and watch her go inside with her class? A lot of the other parents seemed to be staying. Ellie fidgeted with the straps of her supply-laden backpack and peered in the window of one of the classrooms and finally, when I realized I had done everything I needed to do, that this was Ellie's experience to have, I turned around and started toward my bus.

Deep breaths.

***

I leave you with this. A teaser of our amazing, exhilarating, exhausting and altogether wonderful trip to Oregon.

More soon.

And here's hoping your back to school season, whatever that might entail, is off to a good start.

Of Kindergarten Previews and IEPs and One Big Giant Update Smorgasbord

It has been ages since I posted a good update.

Last week, Ellie attended her kindergarten "orientation." Word is, this gives the school a chance to meet the kids so they may properly balance the classes.

Ellie's new school is about five blocks from our house, a perfect little walk. I'm a little sad that she and Leo won't be at the same school. (The program he's in isn't offered at our neighborhood school.)

Ellie took her place by the list with her name on it. She seemed a little nervous ("Are you gonna come right back and get me when it's over?" but was relieved to see a familiar face from her preschool.

And yes, because I am a giant sap, I did get a little teary thinking about how quickly five years goes by and how The Days are Long But the Years Are Short and I'm going to turn around and be standing in that same courtyard watching Harry and Lucy line up for their kindergarten orientation and OMG Stop the Train I Want To Get Off...

Also? This is my first foray into "General Education" where you, you know, just sign up your kid for school and no meetings or evaluations by therapists and specialists, they just...go.

While Ellie did worksheets and drank a juice box, the parents were herded into the library for a talk by the principal about the curriculum and then we got the PTA sales pitch. Eight years into this parenting gig and I still often feel at these sorts of things that I'm a kid and what am I doing in a room full of all these parents? These grown-ups.

***

Leo got another hair cut.

I just want to reiterate how proud I am of him, that he can get a hair cut (or a blood test! I forgot to tell you about the blood draw last week that he sat stone still for) without a huge (any!) amount of stress or bargaining or bribery (OK, there is the little matter of the iPad that he holds during hair cuts but who cares? Bring on the iPad!) And best of all, I don't have to wear my combat boots or shin guards for these kinds of events anymore. Kids are just amazing. They're one way (in this case, terrified of anything hair cut or medical related), and they're one way and then one day? Something just clicks. And they change. And they surprise you in wonderful ways.

Scored this train table at a garage sale a few weeks ago. The giant box of Thomas trains went unsold so the seller threw those in too, when we went back to pick it. I've literally been searching for this kind of deal for years. The table has been a hit. It's one of the few toys Leo and Ellie play with together seamlessly (we put the table in Leo's room so that the babies can't get involved in the multiple, tiny pieces).

In other Leo news, we had the IEP meeting to discuss the next school year's placement. First of all, third grade? How did that happen? We're making a big change this fall. Leo will be moving from a mostly self-contained class of MCI ("mild cognitive delays") to the LLD (Language and learning disabilities) class. I got the sense from everyone involved that Leo's is a trajectory that doesn't happen often. Once MCI, always MCI? Anyway, acronyms and labels aside, we all agree this should be a good move for Leo. He will be challenged for sure and rather than be "safe and cozy" where he's been, his therapists, past and future teacher are excited about giving him the chance to spread his wings a bit.

Obviously as his mommy it's difficult for me to be completely objective but I've felt for some time that what holds Leo back the most is his language (intelligibility). Yes, he's a bit immature for his age too but this boy is smart. Yes, he learns at a slower pace and needs extra support, which is why the LLD class seems like a great fit. I've talked to many parents of kids with Down syndrome about this and have heard that there's a growing opinion out there that a lot of kids with Down syndrome aren't cognitively delayed but rather that they have learning disabilities.

It's all semantics I guess and it's easy to get sidetracked by all of that. What matters is that at this moment, Leo is poised for a big change that we think will be wonderful for him. His current teacher, the one who has seen him from kindergarten to this new step, she and I had a good little cry at the IEP meeting ('They should stock tissues at these!' I joked) when the school psychologist started in on how far Leo has come since his first day of kindergarten when my biggest concern was whether or not he'd escape out of his classroom (am I glad those days are over).

We have always wanted to challenge Leo, to give him the opportunity to "rise to the occasion." I think this new classroom is definitely an example of that.

***

Lucy is a cruising fool. Walking feels imminent but who knows. Her nickname for now is Pull To Stand.

Harry has gone from the butt scoot to the more traditional crab crawl. Also he is getting his molars (see above). One word: Ouchie. Also: Misery.

They have the whole downstairs to explore and yet I often find them like this, back-to-back inhabiting the same tiny space. My little bookends, so different, yet drawn to each other.

Four

Happy Birthday Ellie!

You narrate your world. Nearly everything is a discussion. Often a debate.
You love princesses, fairies, your family, "wet" (fresh) strawberries, "dried" (dehydrated) strawberries, macaroni and cheese, painting, books (especially princess themed), swimming, ballet class and fancy dresses. When asked who you wanted to invite to your birthday party, you rattled off the names of three girls in your class at school and then added "one boy." Leo.

You have a stunning memory. Don't promise anything to Ellie (strawberry ice cream after dinner, for example) unless you plan on keeping that bargain. You are kind, stubborn, affectionate and love a good backrub, especially before bed.

This has been a pretty big year for you Ellie. You learned to write your name, read many of your letters and numbers and oh yeah, you became a big sister. Times two.

I can't wait to see what other adventures Four brings for you, my dear Ellie-Belle.

The Long Walk Across the Grass and the Pretty, Big Bed

Have you ever had the thought when you watched a small event unfold, I am going to Remember This? This is momentous.

I could almost hear the shutter in my mind click this morning, as I watched Leo puff up his little red fleece clad shoulders, weighed down by his bulky blue backpack. He marched (a bit wobbly-that darn backpack) down the front steps of our house and across the large swath of dewy grass, looked over his shoulder at Ellie and me, not once, but twice, with a grin reserved only for water slides and wiggling puppies.

He had walked from the house all the way to the bus all by himself and oh was he proud.

He gave a final wave to us, right before he climbed the steps of the little orange bus. He was only across the yard, but he looked so … old.

Leo has been walking to the bus by himself (across the grass) for about a week now. The first time it happened by accident. Last year I always walked him right to the bus’ door (often with a still pajama clad or sometimes half clothed Ellie still in my arms). I clung to the fear of his oft-unpredictable nature and curiosity and predilection for running straight into the street. Sometimes it’s so hard to let go.

But one morning last week in the clamor of hurry-up-the-bus-is-here-and-where-are-Ellie’s-shoes-and-Leo-let-me-wipe-off-your-face, Leo made it down the front steps by himself. And so I stood there and watched him and well, yup, sure enough he was just fine. He made it to the bus, all by himself. Good for him. I know it’s not much when I explain it all out, but it just felt like a milestone.

Speaking of milestones, I give you:

Big Girl Bed Occupant.

I’m a big believer of keep them in the crib until they climb out (hi Leo, who decided to take a flying leap out of the crib when I was 38 weeks pregnant with Ellie and give me a small heart attack. Too Much Change!).

Ellie never did climb or fall out of the crib. She never even tried. But bed times were starting to take a loooong time. Questions about a “big bed” started coming. Since there was already a big bed in her room (Ellie’s room is our old guest room) it was impossible to make any excuses. I admit to being a little teary when I put her in the crib on Friday night for what (I thought) would be the last time.

Saturday afternoon Erin set up the bed rail and a giddy Ellie asked to go to bed at 7 p.m. After three hours and thirty different trips into her room to answer questions and requests, Ellie was back in her crib (she was given repeated warnings that this would be the consequence).

Sunday night was better. There were only a handful of requests, she settled down in the new, big bed fairly quickly, and slept through the night. She’s suddenly intent on “making her bed pretty.” All the animals must be positioned just the right way, the Princess pillow under her head just so, the covers tucked. That takes a while, but is not nearly as challenging as running up and down the stairs at 9:00 and 9:30 and 10 p.m. to the calls of a crib-bound little girl screaming "MAAA-MEEE!"

And the pretty bed? Not sure where she learned that one but it definitely wasn’t from me.

3

Dear Ellie,

Today you are three. And once again I am asking myself, where did the time go? Isn't it amazing how a hot Sunday afternoon in July (purely theoretical here, I assure you) can just drag and drag and you can keep looking at the clock and thinking how long until bedtime but then you turn around and your little tiny baby...


Would you look at those thighs? Trust me it was hard to resist not taking bites of those on a daily basis.

and then toddler

is suddenly Three. Years. Old.

Each melancholy, sentimental thing that anyone says about time and children is a cliche and collectively they're all tragically true. Every darn word. It already feels like this whole thing is going entirely way too fast and I want to slow everything down and implore you to stop growing! Stop getting older and bigger and smarter! But that would really miss the point, wouldn't it? And so I sigh and just hold you close to me as often as you'll allow me.

And because I have way more than three things to say about you and what you are doing these days, I give you:

1. You are kind, thoughtful, patient, affectionate and witty. You can also be moody, (you recently added the phrase “I’m crabby!” to your daily vocabulary) and stubborn. Who knows what occupation you’ll choose but you definitely have a bright future in the law--you argue better than anyone I have ever met. You give new meaning to the term “getting the last word in.”

2. You love anything pink although your stubborn insistence on it has lessened (pfew). You love dresses and skirts but still won’t let me do much (anything) with your hair.

3. You're incredibly friendly and confident. You march up to complete strangers (at grocery stores, in parks, at the pool) and announce, with your little head held high and your shoulders back: “I’m Ellie Belle!” as though they ought to recognize you.

4. As I’ve written here before, you both adore and deplore your brother Leo. But mostly you adore him. Most mornings the first words out of your mouth are “What’s Leo doing?” Oh sure, he aggravates you to no end but he is also your favorite playmate and you have started coming up with complicated scenarios with him such as “The Bear is Coming” (which, among other things, involves you and Leo hiding in the basement closet, covered with a blanket with you both giggling and whispering to each other until I come and find you).

5. I hope your friendship with Leo lasts a long, long time. Watching you two together brings me more joy than I ever thought possible.

6. Your imagination seems to be exploding right now. This weekend you built an intricate fort in the living room and reclined on your “beach chair” (which was really a pile of couch cushions).

7. Macaroni and cheese is really all you need to subsist. You also like canned peaches (I know! Who likes canned peaches?). Also pink (aka strawberry) yogurt and anything with sprinkles. Honestly you really seem to thrive on air because most often, meals involve you dancing around the house while I implore you to "sit down right now please!"

8. You love going to the Mystic Aquarium but you also love to stay home and paint in the backyard or play in the kiddie pool. You are most happy when we are together. Even a trip to the grocery store elicits shrieks of joy when the gang’s all there: “And we’ll all go! Mommy, Mama, Leo and Ellie-Belle!”

9. You floor me every day with your observations. You recently moved into the “bigger kid” room at pre-K. You’re no longer a Purple Penguin but have graduated to a wise old Pink Flamingo. When I asked you if you liked being a Pink Flamingo you said no, that you preferred the Purple Penguins. Why?

“Because that was the past Mommy, and I love the past.”


Happy Birthday my dear, sweet Ellie-Belle. You are the daughter I always wanted. It’s so much fun watching you become a this little person.

Musings on Birthdays, Life: Please, Somebody Slap Me

I don’t know what my problem is. I am getting seriously emotional (melancholy? Hormonal?) in my old age.

As I said, Ellie turned two on Sunday.

I’m not sure if it was Sunday night blues but by Sunday afternoon I was downright teary. I’m not forty yet, not really all that close (OK, technically closer to forty than thirty for those of you keeping score) but, lately I just feel like time and life are so fleeting. I mean one minute you're pregnant and the next minute they’re two and blowing out the candles on an Elmo cake, looking both tiny and gigantic, at the same time.

And the next minute they’re slamming the door in your face and screaming at you that they hate you.

I know it’s not quite that simple or fast and a few other things come between those events, but sometimes it feels really, just brief. The whole thing. And sometimes I’m just scared.

And I don’t think it helps that it was just our little family celebrating on Sunday. There were no big crowds, no family (everyone is too far away). Don’t get me wrong, we could have invited people, we chose not to do a big party this year and really I’m OK with that, but in the moment, I don’t know, I felt a sudden pang of regret, which is silly since Ellie’s too little to care and Leo usually spends most of the time at any party we have asking to go downstairs to “play” (in the basement playroom, away from all the people and noise).

We’re going to my sister’s wedding in Oregon next month where pretty much every living family member (on my side) will be, so there’s that too. Another reason not to worry about doing a big event for the birthdays.

I just want everything to be special and perfect for my kids, which I know is totally a set-up for complete and utter disaster and failure. I should relish this time, when the kids are too little to ask for expensive gifts, when the best present of all is still the box the toy came in.

We decided to get Ellie a tricycle but didn’t want to spend a lot of money. I was so proud when I found this for $7 at garage sale.

And then we brought it home and gave it to Ellie and it is massive (next to her) and tippy and hard-edged and death-trap looking (especially when Target ran out of toddler bike helmets). And then I looked on Amazon to read more about the trike and there were 49 reviews saying things like “Run don’t walk from this Big Mistake" and "Don’t be fooled by the cutey vintage look.”

Oops.

I think it will be fine once she gets a little bigger. And Leo can definitely ride it (great, something else for them to fight about).

I know I’m just a ninny sometimes. It’s as if I find stuff to worry and fret over. Ellie had a great birthday. She was with the people who love her. She spent the day playing in the backyard, taking a long nap, eating Popsicles and barbequed turkey dogs, swimming in the kiddie pool and blowing out the candles on a gigantic Elmo cake made by a renowned pastry chef, created just for her.

What more could anybody ask for?

Oscar Remorse, Dud Doctor, Home After Dark and Forward Facing Ellie

Every year I stay up to watch the Oscars and every year I ask myself why I do this, when the next morning I am beaten down tired and dragging You Know What. I have that feeling I remember having when I came home from a slumber party on a Sunday morning after staying up all night, or I guess more recently, of being up all night with a newborn. I just want to lay down here next to my desk. I’ve heard “Slumdog Millionaire" was a great movie but I didn’t see it so having it win every other award just felt hollow to me, personally (though I’ve heard it’s really really all that and more). My fault I realize, but still. It’s just kind of boring when it’s a blow out. Oh wait, it’s a blow out every year. Oh well. I guess we need to rejoin Netflix because there is just no way I am going to see it in the theater.

Having moaned about the sleep deprivation, Go Kate Winslet and Sean Penn! (Best quote of the night? “Well you commie homo-loving suns of guns!”) I didn’t see “The Reader” but Kate has been amazing for many years. Her performance in “Revolutionary Road” (which I did see! But it wasn’t nominated!) was extraordinary. And “Milk” is on my list to see. (The speech by "Milk" screenwriter Dustin Lance Black had both Erin and I wiping away tears.) So it wasn’t all for nothing.

Closer to home, I should report that the doctor on Friday afternoon was not any big deal at all. I think that’s a great policy, tell the patients it’s going to be a monumental, soul crushing wait so they can be pleasantly surprised when they are In And Out In An Hour. I came armed with apple juice and Cheese Nips (#1 health choice—purchased in rushed desperation at the bus station on my way home). The hooligans were more than happy with the MSG loaded treat and it helped passed the time splendidly. I made the mistake of having a few after they went to bed. My god, the salt. They were delicious. Anyway, the diagnosis was as Erin and I suspected, conjunctivitis. A bit of fluid in the ears, but not infected. Leo’s definitely goopy but his spirits seem fine. But can I just say how much I dislike this doctor? She’s just, I don’t know, off-putting. She has no sense of humor (an automatic shut-out for me) and just seems critical. She walks in the door and sweet Leo throws his arms around her. Her reaction? Oh, thank you for whipping your boogies on me. Way to put the kid at ease, right? I mean, seriously? She's a pediatrician. I have to think "boogies" are the least of what she sees. I do my best to keep Leo’s nose and face snot free but I literally would need to hook him up to a hose to keep it totally tidy. Sue me. I do the best I can. And of course for some reason this critical doctor alerts my Can’t Stop Talking reflex. I say things like:

Me: Well he went to school today and they didn’t call me about his eye, I was very surprised.

Dr. X: He went to school like this? They didn’t call you?

Me: Yea well I had to go to work and the regular school nurse is on maternity leave so maybe the new one isn’t as good I don’t know…

Maybe I’m too sensitive, but she just generally creeps me out. And it’s weird because I LOVE everyone else in the practice. I think if I met the nurse practitioner in a different context we could totally be mom buddies, so to have this weirdness…I’ve thought about having something in our file that says we don’t want to see this doctor. I’ve talked to other people that have done this. I’m just a chicken sometimes. I don’t like conflict. Not that I think anybody would care if we boycotted Dr. X.

In other news, maybe I am tired from the weekend itself. Don’t get me wrong, it was wonderful. Saturday is just the kind of day I like to have (ONE day out of the weekend). We left the house at 10 a.m. and didn’t get back until dinner time. And best of all there were no major meltdowns (by the kids or me). Erin had to work (which is rare for a Saturday). So it was just the hooligans and me at a birthday party at one of those indoor play spaces (not the one we usually go to). After the party we drove around while I tried to get them to take a nap (success) and then it was on to Manhattan for the playdate with the Down syndrome group (more on that and the party, in a later post).

In milestone news, we turned Ellie’s car seat around. She’s technically still able to be rear facing in the seat she has but she seemed to be very uncomfortable in it with her long legs. I can’t believe what a big girl she looks like when I turn around and see her facing me now. The pigtails don’t hurt either.

Ellie in Action

Watch out. I just figured out how to post videos so prepare to be tortured. This one is short. I took it about a month ago of Ellie taking her first tentative steps. Don't worry, more to come. By the way, she is walking about twice as fast and sturdy now, compared to what she was doing in this video.

Bye-bye

This morning as I was leaving daycare Ellie was standing at the baby gate and I was at the end of the hall. I said "bye-bye," turned to leave and heard a little voice say "bye-bye." I turned, and she was not only saying, it but waving!
I am so proud!

Random thoughts on a Rainy Friday.

It’s Friday (yay!)

It’s raining (boo!)

I am wearing a non-maternity shirt that looks maternity and therefore makes me look pregnant. (why!)

I’ve grown to feel that my Danskos are clunky (though I still like them) and insisted on wearing ballet flats (so not rain-proof). My jeans are wet up to the calf from the puddles on the way from train to building and my shoes, well they are just wet. Oh well.

I am loving and devouring The Book of Dahlia. So disturbing and sad and funny and moving. I feel myself bounding through it too see how it will end (well I think the girl with the brain tumor is going to die, duh) but I also find myself stalling. It’s the book that I don’t want to end. When I really enjoy a book and it’s over, it’s almost like a loss. The people, the characters in that book are so real that I am sad to see them go. And I love how it makes the commute fly.

But the real news is that Ellie slept from 9:15 to 7:15 last night. Not. A. Peep in between. But of course, because life is like this, guess who has decided to have nightmares two nights in a row? Yes that would be Leo. Poor guy. He goes right back to sleep after a few minutes of comforting, but the fact that I have yet to sleep blissfully through the night, well I guess if it wasn’t so ridiculous it would be sad. I know I know, we should all have such problems. In the grand scheme it’s not that big of a deal and it is so much better than it was even just a few weeks ago. I am just so excited about Ellie sleeping that a little Leo wake-up seems negligible.

I still can’t get used to the whole both-kids-in-bed-I-have-the-night-stretched-out-before me-thing.

Well to be fair it’s hardly “the night.” By the time I have showered, unloaded/loaded the dishwasher, gotten bottles ready for the next day, sorted the laundry and picked up the toys it’s practically time for bed. I won’t even tell you how much DVRed stuff there is to watch. I remain at least a week behind on Top Chef and I still haven’t watched last week’s America’s Next Top Model(never mind that they announced the Wednesday night—ssshh don’t tell me!). I vote for the Big Girl but I doubt she got it.

It’s hard for me to settle down and relax; for fear that someone (um, Ellie) will start to cry. And sometimes when she goes down I think I should just go straight to bed, to seize that sleep time. But if she is serious about making a habit of sleeping through the night, then I might have to rethink that urge. I might have to actually consider Doing Stuff at night. Last night was my favorite night of the week: Grey’s Anatomy. I actually watched it live (ok it was a bit delayed as I watched it late so I was still able to fast forward through the ads). I am loving the Hahn/Torres Sapphic thing. I just hope they don’t make it into some big joke. Ha ha they’re not really lesbians. I mean I don’t care if they’re really not but I just don’t want it to be a joke—something that will just get laughed about. I give the writers a bit more credit than that though.

On tap for the weekend: a lot depends on how this weather turns out. Right now it is looking suspiciously like my hometownout there and that does not bode well for the outdoor activities. Still no fence and still no word from fence guy which is a little troubling.

And where oh where is my tax refund?

I leave you with cute Ellie news. I had been talking with a work colleague about Cute Things Our Kids Do and realized I am so busy with having two that I don’t pay attention to the minutiae the way I did with one. Maybe it’s because I was constantly analyzing and assessing Leo and with Ellie I am more relaxed. But I realized I didn’t know if Ellie could give hugs or kisses, heck I found out she could wave by complete accident. So this morning I asked her to give me a kiss and guess who leaned over and planted her wet little mouth on my cheek. Well to be fair it was more like she planted her whole face on my cheek, but I think she gets the idea! The kissing!

I could not be more proud. The sleeping. The kissing. What more could a mother ask for?

Pictured above (since I haven't taken any good pictures lately this one will have to do) is Leo at the park on a weekend a few months ago when the weather was much nicer than it appears that it will be this weekend. It was only a few months ago but he looks so much younger there. Maybe because of the bowl hair cut?