Skipping Town

Dear Lulu, It's been an incredibly exciting month, a fun near-end to summer, and this past week you've been in camp at your new preschool. You have loved every second of it. You had a wobbly chin when I left on the first day, but you didn't cry, and the teacher said you were quiet for about ten minutes and then were fine. You've had so much fun--you're so excited to go each day, and when I pick you up, you're eager to return the next day. As usual, you won't give us too much information about what you did, but now and then you'll share a detail, like making trail mix (you were thrilled, and we've been making trail mix each day since). This is all a big relief to me, because you loved your old school and friends. But we get to walk to school now, which is exciting; there is an outdoor playground; and everyone seems warm and kind. I'm really glad you got to do this camp, jus t to get familiar with the school before the year actually begins, ...

We are on the cusp of change: ponies are overtaking princesses. We've been in princess-world for almost one full year, and now, as summer comes to an end, both girls' interest in the Disney Princesses seems to be waning. They still play a lot with their Barbie-size princess dolls, but they haven't played with their Magiclips very much lately, and they no longer gravitate toward any potholder, keychain, outlet cover, or what-have-you with a princess on it. Today Lucia even told me that next time we go to New Hampshire, she doesn't want to take her princesses. She wants to take ponies instead. And so begins our My Little Pony era. We've had ponies for a while now--I bought a few at a yard sale a couple of summers ago, and the girls have always played with them now and then, without much fervor. Greta was always much more interested. But now--but now. They saw an impressive collection of My Little Ponies when we visited friends in Pittsburgh last month. And they disc...

This evening, as Lucia, Greta, Andrew, and I ate dinner overlooking the fields and pond in New Hampshire, Lucia expressed her ardent appreciation for the pieces of plum on her plate. It was as though she'd never seen a plum before, as though I hadn't been offering them to her all summer. "Mama, these are so, so yummy," she said. "How did you MAKE these plums?" "I didn't 'make' them," I said. "They're pieces of fruit, like apples, cut into slices." Andrew, always helpful, said, "God made the plums." Lucia gazed out over the twilit fields. Birds chirped. Crickets chirped. A few remaining clouds wisped across the sky in the cool, brilliant, final light of day, illuminating the gold and purple wildflowers. "Who IS God?" she said eventually. My response was weak. I had no idea what to say, falling back on creationist nonsense because I couldn't come up with anything better. "And that's...

Dear Lulu, This letter is late, but I purposely waited to write it so I could write about a very exciting event: your big debut as a flower girl in your cousin Lexi's wedding on July 19. For months, I'd been preparing you: talking up the honor, the dress, the excitement, the princess-like aspects of the day. We watched YouTube videos of flower girls. We talked about brides and aisles and flowers. You're almost five years old--an age of reason, usually. But it was the "usually" that, of course, made me nervous. Ninety percent of the time, you're agreeable and amenable and wonderful; ten percent of the time...you're otherwise, like any kid. With a four year old, there's no guarantee of predictability. But we needn't have worried. You were so extremely excited, talking about the wedding for weeks beforehand. You sailed through the rehearsal, and had a good sleep the night before the wedding. (We had two adjoining suites at the Mayflower in DC--roy...

Dear Baby Grets, Sorry: Big Girl Grets. You won't abide being called a baby these days, and you're taking more and more pride in doing things by yourself. "FELF," you say firmly, whether it's climbing into your carseat, climbing out of your carseat, getting dressed, or using the potty. You also don't like when we offer you bites of food you've expressed an interest in: "No. OWN," you say. And so we give you your own. Miracle of miracles, you seem to be potty trained. Not only that: you don't even want help. You announce "Go pee-pee," stride into the bathroom, pull down your underwear and pants, climb onto the toilet, and go. You (cursorily) wipe, flush, and step onto the step stool to wash your hands. The first time you managed to flush by yourself, you were overcome with pride and excitement. "Me big girl now!!" you exclaimed, clasping your hands in front of your neck. I am just as excited about this development as yo...

Dear Grets, Every day, you make us laugh. Every day, you make us want to scream. You are two, and you have become so headstrong, so emotional, and so hilarious that we never know what’s going to happen from one minute to the next. The only certainty is this: most of the time, you’ll be doing something you’re not supposed to be doing; and most of the time, it’s something that annoys Lucia. It’s amazing to watch you embrace your role as the quintessential Little Sister. You idolize Lucia—but, in your adoration, you also know exactly how best to get her goat. Sometimes you poke your finger toward her, squinching up your little face. This always gets a reaction from Lucia: “MAMA SHE’S POINTING AT ME!!! SHE’S POINTING!!!” Sometimes you actually poke her in the arm or leg, which (obviously) infuriates her. You sometimes grab whatever object she treasures most at the moment and just take off running, holding it close to your chest like a football, while Lucia screams and runs aft...

I returned to the church sale tonight and, of course, came home with a successful bounty: small microplane grater for NH metal tongs 2 mini-cupcake pans 2 mugs 8 children's books 10 Little People animals 1 vintage Little People boy 1 vintage Little People dog tiny stuffed lamb 2 tiny ponies white noise machine (identical to Lucia's old one, destroyed in the NH storm!) 2 tiny dinosaur figurines 1 medium-size shark figurine The final day of the sale is Thursday, one last hurrah.

We're still here, still surviving--thriving--with only a dorm fridge and a cooler, and though there has been more rain and lightning, our power has stayed on. It's been another few days of quiet and relaxation. We've spent most of our time at the pond, the girls' favorite spot: feeding fish, spotting tadpoles and salamanders, fishing with long sticks for great hunks of algae, tempting frogs with long grass stalks to jump and chomp. Today, as a kind of blessing or omen, we spotted the pond's fabled snapping turtle. We were all on the dock, tossing bits of bread in to entice the fish, when suddenly something larger, much larger, emerged from the deep. It was beautiful and terrifying, and it hovered there at the surface, its long, wrinkled legs treading water, and watched us. Then it swam serenely away, under the algae leaves. It surfaced one more time while we played, and then it was gone. Neither Andrew nor I really believed the turtle was real. We've heard a...

It's my favorite time of year: our extended stay off-the-grid in New Hampshire. We're here for eleven days this time, our longest stint ever, and so far it's been the usual mix of complete bliss and vexing, unpredictable difficulties. We arrived very late Wednesday night, and had a perfectly lovely time for most of Thursday: pulling out the toys from the barn, filling the wading pool, visiting the frogs. But right before the girls' bedtime, a huge storm blew in--deafening thunder, terrifying lightning. At one point, all the lights in the kitchen blazed on, and I saw smoke by one of them; then--nothing. No power. A power outage seems to be a given each time we come up here. Still, we never seem to remember to get batteries for the flashlights or stock up on candles. Andrew found one small working flashlight, and we tried not to be too worried about the fully stocked fridge. We decided to just go to sleep. Around midnight, we were woken up by the fan in our room whirr...

Oh bliss! It's church sale time. Today was the opening night, and I felt positively giddy as I lined up early, waiting to enter with my two gigantic Ikea bags and a walletful of cash. It did not disappoint. I came home with both bags full, plus a trunk full of larger items. My haul: a Plasma car (and I got another at a yard sale last weekend, so now I have 2) 2 sawhorses for Andrew 5 large trucks and fire engines for Luca a handful of Matchbox cars for Luca 6 dinosaur figurines 2 shark figurines a handful of Littlest Pet Shop animals a handful of small animal-squirters for the pool/water table/tub a bag of Little People-type animals a bulk bag of adjustable metal kids' rings to which you can hot glue any number of items (perfect winter-day activity, making a hundred rings from coins, buttons, stones, etc etc) a dinosaur puzzle a poker chip spinner full of poker chips (another winter-day keeper) a pile of fabric remnants and samples to make pillows (to put on the b...

Dear Little One, You're closer to five now than four, and every day it shows. You've been interested in games off and on for the past couple of months, but suddenly you're more excited about them. Since Greta's nowhere near ready to follow rules--even simple ones--this is something you and I do together (with Daddy on weekends) after Quiet Time, when Greta is still napping. We currently play Orchard and Sneaky Snacky Squirrell. I have another couple stashed away for a rainy day. It is, sadly, the end of the preschool year, but you have two weeks of "camp" coming up--sort of an extension of the school year, with the same teachers and kids--which is great. You had such an amazing year. Wonderful teacher, and a new openness and excitement about making friends. I know you're only four, but you really did make friends this year, specific children you enjoyed playing with and really loved. It is such a relief to me that you're so well-adjusted and happy;...

Little Ones, Another joint letter. I’ll get my act together soon, I promise. But once again it’s fitting to write to both of you, since so much of what you do, you now do together. Now that it’s summer, all of us are happier, and we spend our days on the porch or in the backyard: bubbles, chalk, climbing the rhododendrons, coloring the rhododendrons with chalk, running around, digging, reading. We’ve set up the water table and sand table, as well as a kid-size table with chairs for snacks, lunch, dinner. It’s all just purely fun. You both have lost interest in television: though you have your favorite shows (Doc McStuffins, Sofia the First, Bubble Guppies, Dinosaur Train), you’d much rather be outside, or playing with whatever you’re into that day. I never know for sure what you’ll be involved with when I come out of the kitchen to check on you while I’m cooking dinner: today you were both building towers and structures with the wooden lacing beads that haven’t seen the light ...

It doesn’t really feel like summer until we trek to New Hampshire for the first time. This weekend, even though the weather was cool and rainy, our summer truly began: we arrived at the house Thursday night, and we ventured out only once—for a few groceries—over the next two and a half days. The girls were beyond excited to be back. Lucia remembered everything from last year, already listing her favorite things to do and play with as we drove from New Jersey; and though it’s unclear if Greta really remembered anything in any detail, she didn’t hold back for a second once we arrived. Both girls were happier over the last few days than we’ve seen them in ages. It’s a different kind of fun there: freer, simpler, more childishly joyful. We all tramped around in our rain boots most of the time, since it rained off and on and the grass never really dried out. The girls were happiest when they were playing with water anyway: a puddle at the end of the drive—ankle deep—was thrilling for t...

What a lovely Mother's Day: beautiful weather, breakfast in bed, delicious meals, lovely presents. I went to yoga and got a manicure/pedicure. We all hung out outside, in the yard and on the porch. Both girls seemed very excited about the idea of Mother's Day and kept bringing me bouquets of flowers/weeds and wishing me Happy Mother's Day. Two sweeties. What a lucky mama. (And a few pictures from rainy yesterday:)

Overconfident from our successful drive to Florida over Christmas, a few weeks ago Andrew and I decided to make the journey again, this time for a week during Lucia's spring break from preschool. It was a much easier trip this time, planning-wise, without the endless Christmas luggage; and we felt like we kind of decided to do the trip on the spur of the moment, or as spur-like as one can be when traveling with two kids. On the way down, we stopped for a barbeque lunch, where both girls revealed a love of fried chicken legs, and we spent the night in a hotel, just as we did last time. This was a total fiasco. We got there right at bedtime, but the girls hadn't yet had dinner; and there were no cribs left. I made the girls dinner (we'd brought food in a cooler) while Andrew went out to find a Walmart and buy a crib. Then the novelty and excitement of sharing a room was just too much for Lucia and Greta to handle, and they didn't go to sleep until after ten, and only af...

Dear Girlies, I'm delinquent this month in writing your updates, so I'm writing a joint one to get back on track. The main theme right now is the way you've been interacting anyway, so it makes sense. You've always played together--usually very well; sometimes squabbling more than playing--but in the past couple of months your play has changed, deepened, and grown. Greta, you're old enough now to understand what's going on and to actively participate in whatever activity the two of you are doing; and Lucia, you seem thrilled to finally have an "equal" in your games, one who can go along--more or less--with what you direct. My role, too, has changed: rarely am I a primary participant in your activities; I moderate, I suggest, I mediate, I propose, but you two are incredibly self-directed, and your imaginations know no bounds. A favorite thing to do right now is reenact scenes from Frozen. You both know large blocks of dialogue, and you switch off be...

I have a lot of blog-catching-up to do--a ton--but I keep putting it off because I want to add pictures, and all my pictures are on my phone. So I'll forge ahead with two cute anecdotes: Yesterday, before Andrew got home, a contractor stopped by to look over the house, so I left the girls alone watching Bubble Guppies while I showed him around. Bubble Guppies is a very strange show that the girls inexplicably adore. Well, not inexplicably--all the characters are mermaids and there are always cute animals. It's like preschool cocaine. Needless to say, it's not scary, but in one particular episode, there's a scary-seeming seal that the mermaids think is going to eat a baby penguin. Both girls are terrified of this seal. This was the episode they were watching while I was with the contractor, and when I came downstairs I found them on the couch, hugging each other, comforting each other in their fear. It was so cute. Today, I mentioned to Lucia that she and Greta would...

This morning, the girls and I dyed Easter eggs. They were beyond thrilled. I put some eggs for each of them in wooden bowls, and they played with them throughout the day. At naptime, Greta brought up a little bag, as she often does; I assumed it was filled with tiny princesses, as it usually is. Just before I put her into her crib, I realized the bag was quite heavy. I looked inside and saw five dyed, hard-boiled eggs. I find this absolutely hilarious.

Finally: spring. Our backyard is a mudpit, the crabgrass is growing in aggressive clumps all over our front yard, the finish on our porch steps has worn off completely--and yet it's glorious to be back outside, able to keep the front door open and let the girls run around with zip-up sweatshirts or, today, only their regular clothes. Lucia and Greta, starved for the outdoors for months, have been gorging themselves on the open air and the space to run. All week, whenever I've taken them outside, they've been absolutely overcome--they don't stop moving. The activities they've been absorbed in are just different reasons to run. One game is "It's raining!" and involves running from the playhouse to the rhododendrons to the slide to the biggest mudpit and around and around again. Another game is "Help me find my sister!", which involves each girl holding her three small mermaid dolls, hurling one of them as far as they can, and then just running ...