Photos from the weekend

She kept trying to go back to the water after we were done swimming. How to keep a toddler still on the beach? Bury her under sand. Four times because she liked it so much.
Feet. Sand.
I thought 8:30 was too late to get down to the lake for a little swim on Saturday night. Turned out it was perfect for these two.

Just us. Justice.

The three of us haven't had a full weekend together since our vacation. Ahhh... summer working for a nonprofit. At least for Jim and I this means a lot of time spent on the road. Me, meeting clients, him, meeting sponsors.
In addition, last week was a darn horrible week and we needed to get away.
We went to Higgens Lake on Saturday and came home Sunday. It was lovely.
Yesterday we spent time on the beach at the state park. Jim and I built sandcastles in the surf under the watchful eye of our supervisor, Willa, who was just waiting for them to get big enough to stomp apart. A little boy joined us. His name was Sam and he was three.
A while later we met up with Sam again in the water with his mom. Sam splashed us. His mom took him away while giving him a stern talking too.
Willa jumped on the bandwagon. "Sammy bad. Sammy naughty. Sammy in trouble." She talked about Sam's (who she decided was more of a Sammy) terrible behavior the entire walk back to the sand. If Willa and St. Peter were in cahoots, poor Sam's soul would be doomed for all eternity simply for splashing us.

Willa, a pit bull, and I go to the County jail

I was late for work today. But I had a really good excuse.

Willa and I got in the car this morning and turned from our street to a fairly busy road. Traffic was acting weird, and after a truck moved on, it was obvious why. There was a dog walking down the right lane. I nervously watched it as I prepared to make my turn. The dog left the street for the sidewalk, and I sighed with relief. But then there was this stray dog, walking around kind of aimlessly and looking confused...

I had to stop.

Okay, I know my mom is reading this and is about to worry a bit. This ends well (I hope) for everyone. Onward.

So. I turned onto another side street, rolled down my window and whistled. I am a good whistler, so the dog - 4 houses away on a busy street - heard and stopped to turn around. I put the car in park, got out and called for the dog. He perked up and clumsily loped over to me. He was a young (probably not yet a year), beautiful, and very sweet pit bull.

I, of course, put the strange stray dog in my car. I made him stay in the front seat because I didn't want him to get anywhere near Willa. See? I have some sense. Willa was in the backseat smiling and saying "brown doggie" over and over.

And we drove to the animal shelter which, lucky for all 3 of us, happens to be on our route anyhow.

The shelter and the jail share adjacent land, so we wound up there first and I kind of felt all bad ass with my temporary pit bull next to me. The 2 year old in the back seat singing her ABC's kind of ruined the vibe though.

We got to the shelter and they were not open until 10. Luckily, an overworked and burnt out employee was walking in while I was on the phone with the sheriff ("um... I have this stray dog and I have to get to work"). The worker sent someone else out to get the dog. After rolling her eyes at me when I asked for her help.

The kind shelter guy promised me that they give this misunderstood breed as much of a chance for adoption as any other dog. That made me glad, he was a sweet buddy for the 8 minutes he was in my care. I hope his owner thinks to call the shelter. He had a collar but no tags. I signed a paper and the guy took the happy and willing dog from my car.

At which point Willa lost it because she thought her new doggie was gone.

It was not a usual morning.

moments and people

Last Sunday evening we took Willa to a small playground that's right on the Grand River. While she and Jim were playing, I glanced west at the water. The sun was to set in an hour or so, and there was an incredible sense of peace that came over me. It was kind of strange and surreal: I didn't hear the playground chatter, or traffic, or music coming from the nearby church group. It was silent, and for the first time since my sister told me there was trouble with her pregnancy, I felt calm, centered, serene.
I like to think that that moment was something meaningful and something I should carry. But in the senseless loss of the immediate, that's hard to do, hard to process.
Lisa and Ken are home now. Their village will surround them and hug them and give them cookies. We will not be able to give them what they most ache for, but we will offer what we have.
Lisa tells me to hug our Willa and pat my belly. I urge you to do the same. Take a moment to be grateful for what challenges you, what feeds you, and what means the most to you. And if the "that" is a person, let them know.
With love,
Amy

Tidal wave of love

Thanks to everyone who offered their sympathy, thoughts, and prayers. I am going to keep these comments private and not publish them for the last post. Please know that each one was comforting, and I will pass along the wave of love to my sister and the rest of my family.

Dear darling little nieces,

I never got to meet you, never even felt you moving inside your mom's belly. But I love you girls, and was looking forward to smelling your newborn heads when I first held you.


Your mom called me today to say that you wouldn't be joining us this way. Your little bodies weren't meant to make it. And now you're both gone. The doctors didn't start a proceedure that would hopefully help you grow big and strong. Your parents had no decisions to make, in the end the percentages and risks were meaningless. You took care of that for them, and just slipped off sometime between the last kick or elbow or stretch your mom felt last night and this morning's ultrasound. And for making the decision, I thank you.

For all of the joy you brought us - your heartbroken family of sister, parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, uncles, aunts, and cousin - before we could even counted your tiny toes, thank you. You will be mourned and missed. You will be remembered and loved.


Aunt Amy

Heavy things, heavy heart

Now I am a blogging slacker and a liar.
I'm kind of laying low in the bat cave right now.
My sister has run into some complications with her pregnancy, and I'm using my spare time and energy to send good thoughts, think of something productive I might do to provide help to my little sister and her husband and their four year old, and generally try not to cry every time I feel my own baby move inside of me.
Caring for and loving other people is hard work. Lisa shared the names of her babies with me, and now I might love them even more. I'm sharing neither the names nor the gender, as I don't know if that's public yet.
The twins are sharing a placenta, and that's not a good thing. Here is an article * that describes the surgery we're hoping will take place in Tampa, FL early next week. Science and medicine continues to amaze me.
Sinki vacation review will tie up when I can write about it and give it justice. For now, any crossed fingers, good vibes and big strong prayers sent to Lisa and her family would be terrific.

*Andi, I don't know if you read here or not, but if you do, thanks again for the article.

Stuck in the locks

Dear Sinki family memories and readers,

Sorry to leave you stranded in the Soo. Work and life has been crazy. Please check in tomorrow when I do the final vacation wrap-up.

In the meantime, send out teeny vibes that morning sickness isn't coming back to me. I'm queasy, and it might be because of the "English hot house cucumber" sized fetus in residence. Or not.

Also, Willa has named "big baby" after her teacher. This puts her naming of items at:
- my old Hush Puppy stuffed dog who she calls Thomas or Otis (after Bill and Jac's puppy) depending on the mood.
- "big baby" is now called "Little Kelly" after Willa told me that she loved Miss Kelly at school (who she hadn't seen in 2 weeks because of overlapping vacations).

See you tomorrow.

Cooler than it sounds, the Soo Locks

... and then it was time to strike off on our own and brave the Mackinac Bridge and the great north woods. Last Monday we gave my parents hugs and kisses and drove north.

First stop: Sault Saint Marie. There we found THE nicest MI Welcome Center employee in the history of hospitality. We left with a bag full of information on lodging and sites to see in the UP (because we admitted that we didn't really do much research before leaving) and a wolf poster that she dug out of the back office for Willa.

From there we checked into the Holiday Inn Express*. This was our first time hoteling with the dogs. They had a tough time figuring out what their role was. We felt it should be to lie down, enjoy the scents of former boarders, and chill out. They felt they should alert us every time someone was in the hallway.

The humans went to check out the Locks. Lucky for us, a ship was due in w/in 20 minutes of arrival. And there it was, huge and right in front of us:

From the Locks we went to dinner and then back to our hotel for some swimming in the pool.

*"What? No camping?" You say. We have a 3 person tent, and it would have been mighty full with 2 adults, a toddler and 2 dogs. Also, camping and 6 months pregnant? This gestator needs a bathroom nearby at all times.

More trees

Mr. Sinki has a hard time doing nothing. This is a fact that he probably won't dispute. One morning while at the cottage I woke up as he was coming back from Houghton Lake's Wallmart with pillows and a dog brush. It's probably for the best that I married Mr. on-the-go. Otherwise I could pretty easily relax myself into a state of very still ooze.

Anyhow, this restless of his encouraged a little side trip to Heartwick Pines. The thing about forrest evolution is that the environment and tree makeup change over time. They're going to have the change the name of this State Park soon, as the Maples will soon outnumber the enormous old growth pines left.

We started off in the the interpretive center where you learn about forrests and that specific land area. There was a display of the fecal matter we might see on the walking trails. I'm sure it was plastic replica of scat, but still... our tax dollars at work there. Willa looked into the glass case and said, "I see flowers." Very telling of her perspective, I thought, must remember for the blog.

From there we went to the old logging museum. This is the segment of the trip where I has hot and bored and didn't really want to read about the 6 kinds of saws they used to cut down trees. I quietly perservered, trooper that I am.

Then we got to the woods. The main event.

Willa was in awe of all the "big trees." She asked for "more big trees" throughout the week.

We walked into the small chapel on the grounds. It's simplicity is humbling and holy all by itself. Willa caught on quick, turning to me with her finger on her lips, "shhhh."

We did some more walking, and found a bench for the following photo shoot. I call this series ADD and Genetics or Strangers at the Bus Stop.

The park is really pretty, and only a short drive from Higgens Lake. We'll have to go back again. I think our little Lorax would like another trip back soon.

Vacation review, part 1

It's been a hard transition back from our vacation. This was no few days away from the office. It was like a pack retreat (it included the dogs), and it was blissful. I figure instead of post all at once about it, I'll savor the review over a few days.

On July 4 we drove from our house to my parents' cottage at Higgens Lake. We spent a relaxing few days up there reading, eating, napping, talking and playing at the lake. While Jim and I were sad that none of my siblings were able to make the trip, it was nice to have my parents alone. Even when we're visiting them at their house, there's always some other activities abuzz. It was nice to slow down a little and really get to talk with them. Also? Willa enjoyed putting on a show for them, including saying their last name out loud for the first time. And folks, it's no easy name to spit out.

In this photo Willa is trying to reach for the water with Grandma's help.

Here's Grandpa drawing a mouse. And then erasing it to make a smaller mouse. Willa was very demanding that Grandpa draw a "little mouse."

Note the fancy slipcover. That used to be my sheet many years ago.

Willa, Arlo (who has a cold nose, according to Willa) and I sitting on an air mattress at the fire one night.

This guy? I totally married him. And have said a "thank you" prayer every day since.

A little walk to the Lake.

More goggle fun. Notice the feet up on the tree stump. She was imitating my mom, move for move.

A few other notes from this leg of the trip: the night of the fire, my dad, Jim and I saw a meteor streak from one side of the sky to the other. It was huge and awesome.

I rediscovered my love for JuJu Fruit candy.

Willa liked to hop from one area rug to the next in the cottage.

Willa has decided that my dad is her buddy. And my mom is getting closer and closer.

The fireworks on the lake the night of the 4th were plentiful. There were probably more than a dozen neighborhood shows going on all at once. It was pretty cool.

Jim and mom and dad, anything to add?

Report from the North

Greetings, pals. I am writing to you from the Upper Peninsula of our fair state. We are in Paradise. No, really. We're in Paradise, MI. Willa is napping in one bed, Jim's catching up on some reading in another, the dogs are sleeping, and I thought I'd see if Paradise had a good internet connection.

This morning we woke up, watched cartoons in bed, ate omelets and repacked the car leaving Sault Saint Marie to head west through National Forrest land. After our trip to Hartwick Pines (in Grayling, near my parent's cottage in Higgens Lake) a few days ago, Willa keeps asking to see "more big trees." The UP more than delivers on this request.

We stopped along the 2 lane highway to climb the 72 steps of the Point Iroquois Lighthouse. At the top of the Lighthouse one is faced with awesome beauty of Lake Superior and the surrounding woods and rocky formations. I was also faced with several phobias at once. I thought I had gotten over my fear of heights years ago. And 72 steps doesn't sound that high. But these were metal steps, with no backs, and I could see through their grating. Then we got to the top and there was no air circulating in the small space that used to house a lighthouse. None. And there was another small family already up there. It was, again, a small space. I looked around at the panoramic natural beauty, pretended that it was breathtaking, and that I wasn't hyperventilating, and then went down the steps cursing my parents ("sons of bitches") for talking it up so much that we had to stop. When we exited, it started to rain. We took the boardwalk to the lake anyhow.

It was worth the little hike up - but I could say this only after I was back on the ground.

After that we drove for a bit longer and stopped at a random side stop along the road. We walked through a thicket of trees and were suddenly the only people (and canines) on earth. We were on a sandy shore on a bay of the lake. Willa waded right in. The dogs frolicked in and out of the water. Jim and I took photos (we'll share some later).

This family vacation? So far, so pretty wonderful.

Sinkis on the run

The Sinki's are heading to the woods of Northern MI for a little while.
Bug spray? Check.
Underwear? Check.
Twizzlers? Check.
We're all set. See you back here after a refreshing vacation.

More big news

Oh my gosh, oh, my gosh, oh my gosh.... I don't think I can tell you yet, but more excitement to come!

An hour later: okay, I have security clearance now.
So, maybe you already know this, but Jim and I are expecting our second in October.
And my sister Lisa and her husband Ken are expecting their second and third in December.
On Sunday my brother Bill and his wife Jackie got a new puppy. He's a 10 week old black lab named Otis.
On Monday they shared that Otis won't be the only addition to their house. Bill and Jackie are going to be parents: wonderful, strong, loving, funny parents. Fingers crossed for a healthy and smooth pregnancy for them.

Outside of the immediate family, I have 2 cousins who are due in November and January.

Babies everywhere!

4 years ago tomorrow

Last month, I chronicled the less than fireworks and birds singing meeting of Mr. Sinki. Don't remember? Look here.

Tomorrow marks another anniversary. I was going to write about it here, but know what? I already did.

What I haven't shared before is that he was making some pretty obvious moves before he left town for his friend's wedding, but I wasn't getting it. Telling me he'd like to sit on his front porch and watch fireworks while holding hands seems pretty blatant, right?

I didn't really process it until I was driving home from that visit. I sat in the driveway with my head on the steering wheel, certain he was going to meet someone at the wedding.

Luckily for me he came home w/ no digits in his pockets and a terribly misaligned back.

Babies in waiting

Every Sunday for a few months I've turned to Jim and said, "hey, I'm _ weeks pregnant today" and he gives me a high five. It was not intentional, but we eased into it as a routine.
On Sunday Willa was in the bathtub and we were standing outside the bathroom door watching her float on her back.
"Hey, I'm 22 weeks pregnant today."
He got a little pale and I noticed his hand gripping the door frame. There was no five.
"There's so much to do."
"I know, holy crap, right?"

At least we're set with a name. Last night sister Lisa called and four year old MaKenna chatted with both Jim and I. She shared her suggestion for a boy or a girl: Peter Pan!

I think that I mentioned a long time ago that someone close to me was expecting twins, but until she shared with the world, I couldn't here. MaKenna is going to have identical twins coming to live with her this winter, and she's making my sister tell everyone: the bank teller, the gas station cashier... They're identical, so either 2 boys or 2 girls. MaKenna's decided their names too: Delilah and Delilah.

Dark secret of shallow waters

I am struggling with the knowledge that I am vain about our daughter's looks. We, of course think she's beautiful. I mean, come on...

Cutie, yes? Anyhow, said cutie was swarmed by mosquitoes yesterday at daycare. View of woodland creatures from their window? Great. The bugs that also lurk there? Hungry.

She apparently has a very high sensitivity to the bites of some bugs. She has welts on her face, and one of her eyes is 1/2 closed. I know it doesn't hurt her, and she's not bothered by her appearance. Yet.. and this is where I hang my head, while out running errands I was feeling kind of sensitive about it. "Stop staring at my daughter, she's fine," kept running though my head. Folks, it's not a little bit. The right side of her face looks completely different than the left.

Here's the obligatory statement about loving a child no matter how they looked. I - we - totally would. And that's where I'll leave that line of thought.

While at the mall, watching her jump on the breakfast themed playscape eggs, Jim leaned over to me and said, "I almost want to show these other parents a photo of her to show she doesn't always look this way." I almost made out with him right there in breakfast land.

We're both laughing and suspicious about our own shallowness in this case. But if our boat has hit some shallow seas, at least we've got each other.

Demands from the backseat

I'm driving along the expressway, enjoying a minute of silence in the hectic morning when the demand is issued from the back seat.
"Ba Ba Black Sheep! Have you any wool!"
"You want music, Willa?"
"Kids sing. Ba ba...."
So I turn on the Dan Zanes CD. If you need music geared to kids that you'll probably like, check him out. There are a few songs on this particular CD where kids sing along too. I avoid purchasing the $3.99 CDs with "all the songs toddlers love" because it's just some 3rd grade class singing "twinkle twinkle" while their music teacher plays the piano. And until Willa's in that 3rd grade class, I don't need this kind of recording. But Dan Zanes does a good job at incorporating the musical midgets.
I was singing along with Song #6 (if you click on the link, you can listen to a sample of the nursery rhyme rap) and Willa scolded me: "no mama KIDS sing."
Just a glimpse into the future when my music isn't cool, and I'm just the driver.

Her great-grandpa.

This is Willa hugging my grandpa. I mentioned below that she hugged him and said, "I love you" when we saw my family last weekend. I wasn't sure he heard her. Then I saw his face in this photo.

He heard.

Teething and still funny

I've got my fingers crossed that mother's intuition has finally decided to come to roost at Camp Sinki - because most of the time? I'm just wingin' it.

Willa's been... well, there's no delicate way to put diarrhea. And a precursor to that was a terrible diaper rash.

We've made and have been using the legendary "magic butt cream."

Recipe: equal parts Desitin, Lotramin and Malox OR, if you've got decent prescription coverage, have the doc call in a script. It's about $15 to diy or, in our case, $3 for the script. We're got both now.

Willa is well and healed. I saw the tips of her 2 year molars poking just below the gum line 2 night ago (this was my suspect all week).

Last night she wanted peanut butter.

"Peanut butter what, Willa?"
"Peanut butter... jelly."
"Peanut butter and jelly what?"
-blank look-
"What's the magic word?"
She raised her face to mine, got the most wonderful grin and proudly shouted, "magic butt!!! Willa's magic butt."

I wore that "A"

Cities and towns near the banks of the Mississippi River and other bodies of water are battling to keep their people safe and the infrastructure in tact. Terrible stories of loss will emerge, as will glimmers of hope, inspiration, and lessons to get that all important flood insurance. I was so proud to read this story this morning.

I've written here about my experience as an Americorps member. It changes individual lives and entire communities. Today there are Americorps members helping with the floods, serving in schools, helping the elderly get meals, building houses, planting community gardens, building bridges in state and national parks... they are heroes.

I am proud to be among the ranks of alumni today.

Homeland

We were visiting my family this weekend. When it was time to go, she gave hugs and kisses to everyone there, including family she hasn't seen since December. I was so proud of her. Two weeks ago, she wouldn't make eye contact with any adult except for Jim, myself and her daycare providers. Jim and I get to live with this little person who knows how to tell us what she's thinking/feeling/wanting and, for the longest time, very few people got to see just how charming and sweet she is.
Some highlights of the weekend:

• Spending time with Jim in the car on the way there, after a busy, hectic week. We have agreed on a boy name! It's not in stone, but it's a step. A girl name, I'm pretty sure we'll never agree on anything again.
• Eating rhubarb strawberry pie (compliments of the Sinkis) on my parents' deck on what may have been the most lovely of summer evenings. Willa deciding to "go get" the birds eating out of their bird feeder.
• Detroit Zoo on Sunday (for FREE, thanks again, brother Brian) with Jim and Willa. Jim declaring that he didn't want to go see any small animals. This was his day and he only wanted to see the big animals. Willa taking a walk with her new peacock buddy. Willa telling me she was going to "go get" the hippo when she saw her. Jim watching Willa watch the animals.
• Big picnic in my parents yard with dad's side of the family. The last time we were together was for Grandma's funeral. It was really nice to see everyone relaxed and enjoying each other.
• Hearing Willa tell her Great-Grandpa, "I love you." I hope he could hear it too.
• Willa playing with her uncles, and hugging her aunt.
• Amazing lightening show we got on the drive home.

The juice running down her chin was precious

I have been having a difficult time keeping Willa inside, what with the delicious strawberries growing in our backyard. I forgot to lock the screen door and heard it quietly shut. I ran to the front door and dragged a mostly naked* Willa into the house. "Straaaaaaw... berries," she howled.
"We ate all the of ripe strawberries yesterday. They won't be good yet. How about some blueberries, Willa?"
"No, mama. Red berries please."
Then I dazzled her with my fine art of changing the subject, "how about if we play with balloons."
It worked.

* She's got a diaper rash that we're trying to extinguish with a lot of air.

Sinki flashback

This blogging stuff... sometimes you mean to post something, and suddenly it was a week ago, or a month, or more. We have a bunch of photos from "the winter thaw" on that I haven't posted here. Let me share a few, okay?

A few weeks ago when we were enjoying the land that is "up north" in Michigan, we got to spend a good amount of time with my parents at Higgens Lake.

Willa was just starting to come out of her anxiety about anyone but Jim and I looking at her stage, and my dad got some special fun play time. See? Here it is. This looks like it could have been a very serious conversation.

Here she is sitting on a bench on Mackinac Island. Her giant Sinki head is hiding the Mackinac Bridge.





Willa and I enjoying our feet in the sand at Higgens Lake.







This one was at the Nature Center in Grand Rapids. I am posting it here to look back on in February when I am cursing living in the tundra.

Here they are casually looking for frogs. Two minutes later, they were both on their bellies on the boardwalk.

Garden inventory

Travel, exhaustion, and weather backed up our usual garden schedule this year. But last night we're 90% done.

Jim built a box for our tomatoes. Now they'll get more sun, and we have more space for other veggies. We have beefstake tomatoes we bought and Roma and cherry tomatoes we started from seed. On Friday we planted about 35 of our seedlings, knowing that they wouldn't all make it. Darwinism has been active in our raised bed, and after the torrential storms of the weekend, we have about 20 nice looking plants. We'll continue to pluck the little guys as the next few weeks go by.

We also planted 10 pepper plants. Jim went a little nuts on the peppers this year. Between those, the tomatoes, and the cilantro that reseeded from 2 years ago, we'll be making plenty of salsa come August.

Willa and I planted radish and green bean seeds. She loves gardening, and I'm happy to have a little girl who doesn't mind getting dirty.

We might put in one or two more veggie plants this year, but have scaled back on variety because we knew we'd be in transition.

I've already mentioned the cilantro, but we're also working with basil, oregano, mint, chamomile and rosemary.

In the fruit department: our blueberry plants are celebrating their first anniversary in our garden this summer. They are growing well, and even though we didn't expect it, we were a little disappointed to not see blossoms. Our strawberries, on the other hand... we have delicious berries that are at peak ripeness this week. The chipmunks have left them alone thanks to the cage Jim made for the plants. They are small and sweet and just the right texture.

It's been a lot of work getting the soil ready, building new beds, and growing some of our stuff from seed. I certainly hope our harvest is decent.

The kids, an update

On Sunday morning, Willa woke me up by poking me in the back with her finger. I rolled over, and she said, "more big booms?"
Someone is a big fan of the show Nature put on the night before.
She also liked the big band music at Grand Rapids Festival of the Arts. We walked away and she said, "more horns?"
Being a toddler must mean that you can't get enough. Of anything.
She shared something with me while I was putting on a diaper. She patted her vagina and smiled, "it's sunny, mama." Magical time, two years old...

Sinki numero dos is the length of a banana now. And crazy active. We're half way to the finish line, and our house reminds me of a Sesame Street skit with Ernie and Bert. The one where the fish is in the pot because Ernie needed the fish bowl for the flower because.. and it goes on and on. Before the baby comes, we need to move one thing to move another to get another thing done. Our house is like Ernie's brain. And Tetris.

Progress in Pottyland

You know how when you're an adult and you wake up in the morning, stretch a little and then make your way to the bathroom? Mmm hmmm, toddlers don't do that.

However.

This morning I woke up because Willa was poking my back. When I rolled over, she handed me her wet diaper. Then her pants. She then walked away quietly. A minute later I realized this was really happening, and got up to follow her.

She was sitting on the toilet, finishing up. She wiped, got down and flushed.

I'm not sure if my body will be able to handle containing all of this excitement and pride. So, you know... share with with friends and internet strangers here.

This kid has moments that astound me. When did she get old enough to do this? Later, she made us eggs and toast with fresh squeezed orange juice. Kidding, kidding (she totally slacked off and used frozen juice).

Willa/Willie

Here's Willa and "her" guitar. She loves to pick it up, insist that
Jim or I play the other guitar and move the capo on and off of
the mandolin neck.
Like the Jack-o-lantern socks? So does she. She picks them out, just like she picked out the headband.

There's a baby in there, more confirmation

Heartburn caught up to me yesterday.

Those other Sinkis

Watching Jim and Willa together is one of the most rewarding pieces of parenthood.
Yesterday she and I were at the fridge getting some juice, and I suggested she go hug Jim and say, "I love you." This is a new phrase, and she's been trying it on for size.
She took her sippy cup and ran to his lap. They cuddled for a few minutes.
I sat next to them. "Willa? Were you going to tell daddy something?"
She looked up at him and then at me. She slid to his slide and was looking at the floor. Suddenly she whipped her head around and shouted with a smile, "I LOVE YOU!"
They spent the next few moments saying it back and forth and then beeping each others noses and pulling on different parts of ears. This, apparently, leads to animal noises. The lobe = moo, the upper ear = meow, etc.
I, being chock full of hormones, started tearing up.
Love you, Sinkis.

Life I love you, all is groovy

4 chambers of a beating heart, 2 hands, 2 feet, spine, kidneys, bladder... adorable alienish profile. Mouth open and shut, hands moving, fist pumping, squirm, squirm, squirm.

Above, you'll see baby's head at the right. Huge forehead (normal for this age), nose, neck, belly, and then the leg and knee. Baby's foot is behind the placenta, which is that mass above its head.

Everything looked great. Everything we could see, anyhow...

After 40 minutes, the tech told me to go pee a little (after drinking 32 oz of water, I was happy to oblige) to see if we could get a shot easier that way. Nope.

After 50 minutes I told her that we had time, but understood if she couldn't spend much longer looking, and we wouldn't leave devastated not knowing the gender. She said SHE needed to know, it was going to drive her crazy.

After an hour she started to clean off my belly while asking Jim what he did. When he told her he worked for an organization that allows intellectually disabled people participate in competitive athletics*, she put more goo on me and tried again for 15 more minutes. Her daughter swims with said organization.

The baby was very active: breach, head up, head down, and then breach the other way. BUT legs crossed and the cord in the way the whole time. At one point all 3 of us saw and thought for sure "girl." A minute and baby shift later, we all thought "boy?" back and forth so many times!

It is still a mystery. And might be so until baby arrives. Baby is measuring a week ahead, and heart rate was 144. It was a sweet and lovely experience, and I'm not at all disappointed to not know. In fact, I'm kind of tickled.

Universe? You're pretty funny. Jim and I spent a lot of time on the "do we want to know this time" question. And this was a good lesson/reminder that it wasn't up to us. Anyone need to share a secret with someone? Tell our baby, he/she's good at keeping those quiet.

*He, of course said the name, I'm trying to keep that off of the blog for privacy sake. I'm sure you've figured it out, but it's not Googleable this way.

Sneak Peek

Sinki numero dos is the size of a "large heirloom tomato" and a candidate for Cirque de Soleil
(click here for an artists rendering of our contortionist fetus). Tomorrow Jim and I will get our first glimpse of baby through the magic of ultrasonic imaging.
I am nervous and anxious more than excited. I remember a small feeling of dread when facing the ultrasound with Willa too. "Everything is going too well... surely we'll find something is wrong at the ultrasound." She's fine, I'm sure (honestly? no I'm not, this is why I'm nervous) this one will be fine too. I'm hoping to be able to see 4 heart chambers working together well and with ease, 10 fingers and toes, a well formed brain and spinal cord.
Fear is a potent thing in an expecting woman. And an ultrasound can be a window to those fears realized.
In addition to health concerns, the real reason of this scan, we will be given the opportunity to find out the gender, should baby cooperate.
We have decided to try to find out this time.
While pregnant with Willa, there was no doubt we were going to wait. "Good, it should be a surprise," people would say in response. I was (frankly) smug in my agreement. I wanted, Jim wanted, that "it's a ____" experience after the baby arrived.
Jim assures me this happened. But I have absolutely no memory of this.
I remember Willa was on my chest, gooey and warm and brand new. I knew she was a girl. I don't remember anyone telling me.
So, darn it, I wanted to have this experience in a moment when I hadn't been in labor forever and wasn't pushing for eons.
And Jim was all, "that's cool."
I don't know if we'll be sharing right away tomorrow. We may keep our excited buzz to ourselves for a day. But stay tuned.

My Boyfriend's back...

You know when you don't have your favorite sleeping pillow (or maybe for you it's the fan isn't on or the blanket isn't just right) and you just can't get to sleep? Willa's sleep comfort must be knowing that her dad's in the house. He got home and she slept. It was still later than her normal bed time, but there were no howls of "Nooooo diaaaaaaper." No throwing up, no tears, not even a lot of playing after being kissed goodnight.

It feels good. Getting a bed all to yourself is no special treat if you aren't actually relaxing or sleeping.

We went to Grand Rapids' farmers market on Saturday morning. I had a great conversation with one of the producers:

"So, what's the difference between the 'homegrown rhubarb' and the 'fancy rhubarb'?"

"I made this sign, my wife made the other one," he said with the most serious face.

I bought the fancy rhubarb to honor the farmers wife's marketing genius. It is now all cut up and in bread and pie. Kerri shared a rhubarb walnut bread recipe from her mom and I had to try it out. Next time I should remember to actually put in the baking soda. This time we have very dense, but tasty bread. Keri (these are 2 different people, not a spelling error) posted on her blog when she made pie with her own crust. That inspired me. So, strawberry rhubarb pie with buttermilk crust. This was Jim's first experience with rhubarb - maybe. He's not sure if the weed the neighborhood kids chewed on growing up was actually rhubarb or not. Anyhow, he loves the pie. Growing up eating my mom's recipe, this one had a lot to live up to, and it didn't disappoint.

Tomorrow is a big day, friends, but because this is already getting long, I will stop here and revisit and repost later this afternoon.

Are you there God? It's me, Amy.

3 am
"Um.. I don't know if my city has met the quota for mercy or miracles for the day. And thanks, by the way, for helping out with that helicopter crash. Woo, that could have been really bad, eh? Anyhow... if you could help inspire Willa to sleep, that would be great. Or maybe just help her out with keeping a diaper on? Or give me a little more patience or energy to deal with this? Uh... God, hold on... Willa was screaming - again - about the diaper injustice, and she threw up on me. But you probably knew that, didn't you?"
3:05 am
"Hi... me again. Thanks for the help. Getting her to giggle while I washed the vomit off of her face? Genius. "

Mean spam, up late

Willa decided she was done with diapers.
At 11:30 last night.
There was no mess, just a playful, headstrong 2 year old and her mom with some significant pregnancy related back/hip discomfort.

Jim's away for the Summer Games.

I'm too tired to write more than this:
I got a spam email at work today. The subject was, "you look really stupid amy.sinki." Well, not Sinki. The spammers used my real last name. Ouch spammers; can't we go back to the good ole days of enhanced erections?

Small things

We have returned from the North. Willa's been excited about our "big trip," and I don't think it
disappointed her.
We started off driving up to Higgens Lake to drop the dogs off with my parents at their cottage. While driving away, Willa started to whimper about "ArloGreta." When we told her we'd see them on the next day, and that we were going to ride the boat, she calmed down.
She loved the ferry ride to Mackinac Island. She stood still with her mouth open when we docked and she saw a team of horses. And another, and another.
There is a lot that I hope to capture here from the long weekend, but here's one blip.

Jim's dad was kind enough to invite us to join them for brunch at the Grand Hotel. This is why I packed a dress (and nylons). It's a dressy lunch. There was a 5 course buffet with deliciously prepared and beautifully displayed food. While the adults oohed and aahed over the desserts, Willa discovered and became infatuated with... Jello. It was mounted atop wedges of cantelope. She ignored the fruit and when we stood to leave the table, we left behind 8 cantelope wedges. Orange is her favorite.

Turnip Sinki

Our baby, according to the website that sends me a weekly email, is the size of a turnip. Nothing brings on the proud and honored glow of a mother-to-be like thinking of her baby as a turnip.

The Sinki's had a great weekend. We went to the Kite Festival in Grand Haven on Saturday. Willa liked the "dancing kites" (there are music coordinated routines; it's serious stuff, this kite festival) and the "big sandbox" (that would be Lake Michigan's beach). Jim and I learned that feeding a toddler peanut butter and jelly at the beach probably requires a higher water temp. for a comfortable dunking. Because baby wipes do not clean off the sand/jelly epoxy.

Later that night we went to Little Mexico for dinner. The mariachi band was there, and Willa was riveted. She stared at them motionless the whole time they played in our room. When they walked on to a different part of the building, she wanted to follow.

Sunday brought us to Blanford Nature Center for some frog spotting and a nice, long walk in the woods. Willa picked up sticks and rocks along the way.

Willa's 2 babies

I asked Willa where her belly was. She patted it and said, "Willa's baby."
Then she pointed to the other side of her belly and said, "other baby. Two Willa's babies."
Around here, everyone is pregnant.

I love John Edwards post #42

The words from campaigning politicians move me. They talk about what our country could be with words in the dialect of hope, idealism, integrity, and resourcefulness.

John Edwards has a particular gift for public speaking and soul lifting. Last night he came to Grand Rapids and endorsed Barack Obama. Though I have publicly proclaimed my love for him, and mourned his suspension of campaign here, I was irritated with him for disappearing for a while. I was irritated with him finally endorsing after it appears that Clinton's campaign - a race arguably well run - is nearly at an end. And then he spoke.

I sat at the kitchen table with my husband and daughter crying over my grilled cheese. This is the man who has the map to the America I want to live in, to raise my children in. And his leadership will be in other offices, for the time being at least. I cried because he'll be "the one who got away" for our country, and I cried because what he said was so darn beautiful.

Then Obama spoke, and it - for me - was kind of a let down. Similar to the currently touring Elvis Costello opening for the Police, I feel like the line up is backwards.

Grand Rapids and Michigan may be the location of the start of the One Democratic Party, it might be the start of One America. Edwards and Obama both mentioned Clinton's name several times in touching moving forward to make America better.

Last night, my temporary political apathy, community apathy, American apathy went away.

16 weeks = avacado

I am 16 and a half weeks pregnant today.

The last time I was 16 and a half weeks pregnant, things were different. I was the one in the big, poofy white dress. Jim was looking dashing in a tux.

On our wedding day, Jim and I said "I do" to each other and the family we had already started.

A baby was a happy chaotic surprise, an early wedding gift, and blessing.


What a luxury, this time around, to not go through final wedding plans while enduring morning sickness.

*Timeline: engaged 3/05, married 10/05, Willa born 4/06. The defensive part of me feels I need to share that we were happily engaged well before the baby news. When you don't do things by the "normal" time line, eyebrows tend to go up.

At the start

Yesterday and 4 years ago I met Jim. I'm pretty sure I've written about that before, I'll go look later. The short version is this: he was doing sound at a concert that I dragged Heather to. Heather knew Jim from her days as a Domestic Problems fan-o-mite; he ran the soundboards as they slowly became better known.

Heather was happy to chat with him and his friend after the concert. I was antsy to get out of there and move on with our plans.

Last night we were walking back from our playground adventure. Willa went up the big steps and down the big slide on her own, Jim and I had just - for the first time - felt the baby moving from the inside (!), Arlo was letting Willa walk him on his leash. Greta led the pack. Jim squeezed my hand and said, "who would have thought we'd be married, with almost 2 kids, and 2 dogs, and so happy?"

Mother's Day

Mother's Day got it's official recognition thanks to a woman who wasn't a mother. For more an interesting one minute read, go here.

Growing up, mother's day meant breakfast in bed for mom (some years), a school-made gift and later flowers, and a visit to each grandparent's house to bestow upon our beloved grandmothers, the annual hanging basket of fuchias (paid for, until later in my youth, by mom and dad).

I am a mother now, and have seen the television commercials for diamond necklaces "from" three year olds. On my in-law's kitchen counter yesterday, there was a hanging basket of flowers that was bigger than some front yards. Next to a $5 greeting card that plays some pop tune.
I don't get this. It's the commercialism of motherhood, and it seems the marketing department is doing a good job convincing some of my peers that we are "owed."
(Thanks to Beth for a little feedback that helped me understand my own thoughts a little better. Many moms deserve to be spoiled. I suppose it's the feeling of entitlement that irks me.)

The original gift for mothers day? A single white carnation that signified pure love.

Yesterday morning Jim and Willa brought me breakfast in bed. With a card that he and Willa had made. Willa scaled the bed and sat across from me. First she played with the lilacs Jim had placed in water on the tray. Then she poked my toast. The pieces with the strawberry jelly. Next, she ate that piece, and got crumbs all over the bed. My side of the bed.

And that is what motherhood is all about, isn't it?

Later, after sweet Jim picked up the tray and went to clean the kitchen, Willa laid next to me, wrapped her arms around my head, and kissed my nose.

Better than any carnation. Though later in the week, we'll be going out to the garden center to pick up some flowers for our DIY hanging basket. Yesterday's gloomy rain wasn't inspiring for us to make the annual trip yesterday.

Later this week, I'll be seeing my mom (who might be finding this out for the first time here), and I'll hope to bestow some flower or other small gift that signifies how appreciative I am of the shared toast with jelly and crumb oversight in the past. And all of the support, kindnesses, and love in the present and future.

I might even kiss her nose. I hope and know she's not expecting a diamond necklace.

Perspective

On the way home tonight, we saw a truck pulling an open trailer full of dirt. Willa yelled, "Mama! Sandbox on the road!"

Toddler secrets, revealed

Green grapes? Boring... Green grapes on a toothpick? Fun! Delicious! More, please.
(Willa is now regularly saying "please" and "thank you.")

Socks are for suckers. Shoes too.

If you want to stay up just a little later, cuddle into mom (or dad) while reading what they've declared to be the last book of the night, and say, in the smallest voice possible, "more stories please." Works like a charm.

Worth 1,000 words?

Your assignment: leave a comment to caption this photo. Best comment wins... tomato seedlings.
Contest ends Mon. May 12. Need not be present to win.

Sinki update

Brother Brian is graduated. It was something to see him in a cap and gown.
Among his class was Ernie Harwell who received an honorary degree. He spoke for 2 minutes to accept the degree. I think they should have had him announcing the graduates (they only read the names of Doctorate and Masters grads). While the wind ensemble played "Pomp and Circumstance" over, and over, and well, there were 2,000 graduates, so there was a lot of pomp, my dad flipped through the doctoral thesis' in the program. One newly minted PhD did his on "the affects of blunt force trauma on a human cadaver head." Which leads me to wonder if someone passed him a name and # for a good therapist.
Anyhow, Brian is now ready to teach the next generation about past generations, so if you're looking for a history teacher, let me know.

Lisa and I overheard mom saying several times to our dad something about their "two pregnant daughters." Which was kind of fun.

Bill and Jac were there. I'm looking forward to their summer break for them. I will never say teachers have it easy.

MaKenna and Willa played. Willa was pretty antisocial. This is probably in part due to the diagnosis we got on our way home (made it to Urgent Care minutes before they closed) of a double ear infection and pink eye. She's doing better today. This morning she told me, "mama, poopy eyes, all done." "Goopy, Willa. You mean goopy eyes."

We had a nice day together yesterday. Her feeling sick brought her energy level about to where I could handle her alone all day. We watched Sesame Street and ate canned peaches. She patted my belly and said, "hi baby." She put her index finger in her belly button and said, "Willa's baby." "Does she get it?" people ask me. Some days I think yes, other days I think she thinks the new baby that is coming to live with us arrived when Grandma and Grandpa T. gave her her new doll baby.

Jim and I were back at the doctors today for happier reasons. It was my 15 week appointment. Our apple sized fetus (apple being a random size, it's about 4" now) had a quickly detectible heart rate of 156 beats a minute. Our ultrasound is in T-minus 4 weeks.

I don't think we're doing it right

Willa's been requesting "time out" lately.
When she's been caught feeding the dogs at the table, "time out?"
When she's bored at the table, "time out?"
Last week she got frustrated and slapped me, "time out?"
I'm not sure this is working the way it should.

On the other hand, is it possible her 2 year old brain knows when she needs to be removed from a situation for a little while?

A few other things:

• This week #2 has been the size of a lemon, and I keep forgetting to tell y'all.
• The baby bunnies are gone. No traces of foul play. They're just gone.
• Brother Brian graduates from Wayne State tomorrow. I hope there's the perfect high school looking for a history teacher for the fall. I also hope it doesn't rain tomorrow - outdoor ceremony.
• The Sinkis are looking forward to a trip to Mackinac Island later this month. I have a few weeks to get over my pregnancy induced chocolate aversion.
• No matter how long I live in GR, the first Friday of the month at noon tornado siren testing freaks me out for a minute. In "the homeland" it's the first Saturday of the month at 1, I think. Guess what just went off? Guess who jumped in her seat?

Jim and Amy: photographers extrodinaire

When Willa was about 4 months old, we started looking to upgrade from the free digital camera Jim (who is not a big black man - HA, Sadie!) got as a result of working for NASCAR. It was a nice camera in that it was free. And small. Jim took this shopping around opportunity to convince me that we needed a Nikon D blah blah blah. It does not fit in my purse. But it takes some darn nice photos.
Above is a shot he took from the top of the slide at the playground near the 6th street bridge.
Below is a shot I took of what happens every evening when the setting sun comes though our front windows.

And what would Grand Rapids blog in April be without a shot of a butterfly at the Gardens? This one was kind of a joint process. I saw the shot, but lacked the height for the framing. Jim did the button pushing. I think this one is called a lace butterfly. It was my favorite kind this year.

Rabbits Redux and photos

Something about our yard calls to rabbits. Despite the fact that every resident of our home, with 2 and 4 legs, adult and child are intensely curious, we are celebrating the 2nd year of being the birth and nesting place of baby rabbits. Click here for last year's batch. Photos and updates of this year's to follow. Willa wants to go visit them every 20 minutes. I have to remind myself this is unreasonable and unfair to the wildlife, and don't let her. Otherwise? I'd be out there too. All. The. Time.

Just this morning, Jim uploaded proof that we're a fun family to the tune of 174 photos. I will spare you from seeing all of them, but here are a few.

Willa has claimed Arlo as hers and he kinda rolls with it. Especially if she's recently eaten peanut butter. Jim bought this shirt for her. I like it. It kind of reminds me of my Grandma Laws. Cousins, sister, and mom? Do you see it?

After trying to get her to sit just so among flowers in a different area, Willa found this raised square and posed on her own. Total diva.

Jim and Willa enjoying the totally awesome bubble wand Heather gave her for her birthday. Jim and Willa were completely tied for "who loved it more?" points.

Lesson learned

They sang, and I paused to take it in. A single candle, stuck in the brownies. 3 boxes stacked, tied with a beautiful brown ribbon. Willa on Jim's leg singing along.
When they finished, she looked at me and said, "mama?" and blew, like she was teaching me, or giving me permission.
It was a happy birthday to me.

Trust issues

Last night we were looking at one of Willa's animal photo books together:
"Thats a goat, Willa."
"No. Cow."
"No, that's a goat."
"COW!"

Today she was looking at a Tigers baseball logo:
"Roar!!!! Lion."
"That's a Tiger."
"LION!"

Today I told her it was my birthday:
"No mama, it's Willa's happy to you."

Jim's making brownies just so Willa can watch me blow out a candle. That'll teach her.

blips

Word's out now, so I'm spreading the news here. Lisa is again "with child." MaKenna is going to be a fantastic big sister. I'm excited to have my sister pregnant at the same time. I'm also excited for her first dr. appointment where she'll get a better idea of when to expect #2.

I'm almost sure that I've decided to grow my hair out during pregnancy to cut and donate it after. On prenatal vitamins, my already thick hair is like the follicle version of baseball's Barry Bonds. Someone(s) is going to get a fairly nice wig.

Can you have a crush on a season? I can't stop thinking of Spring. I hope see spring in the hall and smell it as I walk past. I can talk to my friends for hours about how cool and sweet and smart Spring is. I put grass around my finger pretending that Spring's asked me to wear its class ring.

I hate how cliche this is, but I can't stop eating pickles. Ice cream? Naw... but pass me a jar of pickles. When I ask how I got this swollen, point me back here, okay?

I've started feeling the teeny inward movements of own spawn. Like a small, slippery fish doing rolls. It's delightful. Okay, pregnancy can be fun now.

Being held hostage by a first grader

Last year we got new neighbors across the street. Jim and I don't know exactly who lives there, but we know it's at least a dad and a gaggle of younger kids. I think they're all girls. I don't think the girls live there full time.

In the fall they came over a few times to pet the dogs. There was no actual petting. There was a lot of building up courage and then running away screaming when one of the dogs licked a shin. Or blinked.

Last week the weather was fantastic, which meant the Sinkis soaked up a lot of outside time. One of the girls, a first grader named Tianna came over nearly every day as Willa and I were getting out of the car.

And now she won't leave us alone.

I like kids a whole bunch, but I also value having some quiet time with my own family. And I don't want to spend the summer ducking the neighborhood kids.

Any suggestions for gentle ways to suggest fewer visits? Jim and I really like Tianna. Willa really, really likes Tianna (who she calls banana), but we're not ready to adopt her, you know?

Thanks REM

That's great, it starts with an "earthquake," birds and bees, a thermometer -Lenny Bruce is not afraid.
Eye of a teary mom, listen to yourself churn -embryo serves its own needs, regardless of his/her moms needs.
Feed it up a knocked up,speed no, strength no.
Miscarriage clatter with fear of height,down height.
Esophagus in a fire, represent the nine months in a uterus for hire and a combat site.
Need a nap, wasn't coming in a hurry with the bosses breathing down your neck.
Team by team reporters baffled, trump, tethered crop. Hear that great heart beat! Fine then.
Uh oh, overflow, population, small house, but it'll do.
Baby's growing every day, listen to your heart bleed.
Tell me with the rapture and the reverent in the right - right.
You parental, patriotic, slam, fight, bright light, feeling pretty psyched.

It's the end of the first trimester as we know it.
It's the end of the first trimester as we know it.
It's the end of the first trimester as we know it and
I feel fine.

Willa away

It's still somewhat odd to me that Willa continues to exist after I pull away from her daycare. I know - holy ego, right? But imagining her life out of sight from Jim and I is difficult sometimes.

As she becomes more verbal, there is proof that she's leading quite a full life.

Yesterday I picked her up, and her teacher asked if she watches the movie Annie at home. I had meant to mention to them that Willa may try to turn the Toddler 2 room into a musical about a delightful red headed orphan. All day, Miss Kelly reports, she sang, "ToMORrow, ToMORrow.... a-wayyyyy" over and over again. In the sandbox, while relaxing pre-nap, during art. Like a broken record, that one.

We also found out that 2 of the boys in her room growl at her because it makes her cry. This is weird because at home she's been growling and laughing at herself for months. Jim was very upset when he first heard about this. We've been growling even more at home, hoping that she wouldn't be scared of the two boys anymore.

On the way to the grocery store, she started, "GRRRROOOWWWLLLL - like a BEAR!" she yelled, "mommy and daddy scared."
"We're not scared, Willa. We know it's just you."
She rumbled in the back seat for a while.
Jim said, "I know we want her to be a nice girl, but I want to teach her to bite the bullies."
"She'll get over it, and the teachers are dealing with it. I don't even know if it's happening anymore."
"When she's in high school, I'm going to teach her to kick the boys in the balls."
"That's fine. You can stay at home with her when she's suspended."

Win in the parents column

Turns out all we had to do to stop the night visits from Willa was tell her to cut it out. That, and 2 hours, starting at 3 am, of picking her up and carrying her back to bed in silence. They don't show those 2 hours of agony on Supernanny. There was so much crying, I was expecting the police to show up with a special teddy bear that made our daughter feel like they were nice people who were taking them to foster care.
On Friday, before putting her down for the night, we told Willa she had to sleep in her own crib until it was sunny out. And hours later we showed her we meant it.
The next morning, she and I had a talk.
"Were you sad last night when mama and daddy wouldn't let you sleep in our bed?"
"Yes."
"I'm sorry you were sad, but you have your own bed, and we all sleep in our own beds. Tonight when you go to sleep, you need to stay in your own bed until it's morning, and then we'll all play, okay?"
"Yes. "
And Sunday morning we woke up feeling rested. For two nights there has been no visitors or even crying from her room.
A small win.
Now we're moving on to eating vegetables.

A ripple wakes the pond

I'm a little giddy today. Spring has caused my senses to overwhelm logic, and I just can't wait to be outside and take it all in.

I have a rhino-sized burden off of my shoulders now that I've told my boss about the impending lime with reflexes. It went very well. She said "Congratulations." My last boss did not when I shared news of an impending Willa.

Also, it's Friday and we have Tulips in the front yard, and a hammock just waiting to be lounged upon.

Jim says he's feeling a little off today. He blames the ear infection. I blame the earthquake.

Stream of... whatever...

I have not yet recorded that the fetus is the size of a lime now. And developing reflexes. Big doin's.

Someone I know told me she's pregnant this week. One of their kids suggested a few names, and I told her we're stealing one of them: Fire Truck. Only, to distinguish from all the other Fire Trucks, we're changing it to Phyre Trux. Sophisticated, yes? Thanks to Tiffany for helping me get from A to B in a few steps on that one. Depending on how I know you, you may know the newly pregnant woman. I'm not telling until I get the all clear.

Watched Clinton vs. Obama debate last night while Willa climbed all over me (no doubt giving Phyre Trux the chance to test out some of those reflexes). I'm still not in love with either. Still yearning for John Edwards.

Wild violets are covering the lawn, and while I'm delighting in them, I'm pretty sure Jim's plotting their death.

Speaking of plants, here's what's going on upstairs at Camp Sinki:

This photo is about 2 weeks old. We now have sprouts in every pod. Be sure to check in next month when I post about free tomato plants, because what the heck ARE we going to do with 80 plants in 2 different varieties?

2 moments

Yesterday. Sunny and warm. Sitting on the front porch sharing orange slices with Willa and our 7 year old neighbor. Willa was barefoot. The dogs were doing laps around the house. The neighbor girl was wearing her roller blades. Willa carried around the pansies we bought Sunday by the handle. She put them down and screamed like, well, like a little girl. Willa is now afraid of and intrigued by bugs. A large flying ant was perched on the handle. I do not fear bugs, but detest flying ants. I was heroically brave for my daughter. When it flew away all three of us jumped.

This morning. Three am. Willa walks into the room and starts pawing at my head, finally scrambles up the bed, and next to me. Then on top of me. Then on the other side of me. All the time coughing and mumbling. Jim tries to put her back into her crib, but she follows him back to our bed. I have a two year old stalker.

Small box, big kindness

A few quick things:
We took Willa to see "Horton Hears a Who" at the theater on Saturday. She sat and enjoyed all but the last 10 minutes. At that point, I think she realized there were other people there, and it was a very big room. So, for the last 10 minutes she walked up and down 3 steps and enjoyed the movie. Big fan of movie popcorn, that Willa.
We also gave her the birthday presents we've been storing. The play dough station and art table were big hits. She loves her tricycle. After we get a push bar installed, we'll all have big fun outside with it. Photos to come.

In the gift-opening chaos, she opened THE box. I was reading, and Jim was reading, and she wandered over to us with the box half open. Jim asked if I was all right with that. I was torn, but she moved faster than I could decide.

When my Grandma Laws died, I got most of her yarn. I intended to learn the art of making a long colorful string into something wearable, but alas, my first and only project can best be described as long and brown that widens at odd places.

I am on a message board with other area moms. When I finally admitted to myself that long and brown would never be even a wearable scarf, I asked about places to donate the yarn. One of the moms replied that her Grandmother knits prayer shawls the hospital that Willa was born at. I ended up dropping off a very large bag of yarn in the ER for her.

A few months later Amanda, the mom (hi Amanda), wrote to let me know that the yarn had been made into baby hats. My thoughts went to the hat(s 2- lucky girl) that Willa got she she was born, and then a year later, sitting with Amanda (a near stranger at the time) while she was in the hospital worried that her own baby would be born too early (adorable Addie just turned a year old), and then the future when Jim and I would welcome our second child. Pregnancy hormones and a strong sentimental streak had me tearing up. My grandma would be tickled knowing that her yarn would be used to nuzzle the heads of so many newborns.

Willa opened the box and pulled out a teeny knit hat. Orange and green (perfect for our near -Halloween baby). I started crying immediately. Jim handed me a little handwritten note: "Because your Great Grandma would want you to have this."

Amanda went through great pains to make this precious gift a happy anticipatory surprise. She used her cousin's address and not her own, knowing I'd look it up, knowing I wouldn't find anything. She also shared that she didn't think I'd make it until October. Sweet, fun, sneaky Amanda, thank you, and your Grandma so, so much.

Precedent

At 5:38 this morning, I heard a noise, and rolled over to see what was going on.
Willa was standing 4 feet from the bed in her pink footie pajamas covered with bunnies.
"What's going on Willa?"
"Hi Mama," she lifted her arms, "up, up, up."
I pulled her into bed between Jim and I, she sighed, put her hand under my neck and fell back to sleep.

She's been waking up a lot in the middle of the night lately. I suspect she's started to dream.

Curiosity and this cat

I am not good at surprises. No, let me edit that. I love to surprise people. I do not deal with surprise well.
Yesterday a box came to our house addressed to "Baby Taylor." I opened the cardboard box to find a square box in wrapping paper and a bow with directions taped to it. The directions, in big, bold letters, say "DO NOT OPEN UNTIL THE DAY OF YOUR BIRTH." The return address is: "it's a secret" in a Michigan city where I have no close friends of family. I did a reverse look-up of the address, and found no name.
So, now there's this box in our house that we can't unwrap until late October which is a little more than 6 months from today. Which, in the surprise corner of my brain is equal to forever.
And what if we wait and wait and wait, and on the blessed day that our second child arrives, we finally open the package - which by that time will certainly be resting on a pedestal with tasteful back lighting - and it's a onesie from Huggies?
So, what would you do if a mysterious package arrived at your door with instructions to not open for 6 months? And how good are you at delayed gratification?

Sunday's b-day party in review

We had 2 daffodils bloom on Willa's birthday. Every year for 3 years, I've noticed my favorite flower at the same time as Willa's "welcome to the world" anniversary. I've been scanning GR, and it's entirely possible that we may have the only 2 that have popped.

Due to illness and travel difficulties, the Sinki family of 3 has delayed celebrating Willa's birthday. She has not received her super cool gifts from her parents. We have not done anything small to celebrate - just the 3 of us. Saturday, I think.

She did, in fact turn two on Sunday, and enjoyed time with my side of the family. She got to see her grandparents, and her great grandpa, her uncles, her aunt and her cousin, MaKenna. The only one missing was the newly legit aunt Jac who was working in Traverse City over the weekend. She had a pink cake (she picked out strawberry frosting), and blew the candle out like a pro.

On the way home, she was over tired and hungry (but so tired and keyed up at the same time that she wouldn't eat anything). She cried for the first 20 minutes of the ride, and when she finally went to sleep, Jim and I thought we had a quiet 2 hours in front of us. And then we hit Lansing. We finally stopped in Portland, and spent an hour in the parking lot trying to get her to calm down. Time and a vanilla milkshake finally got to her, and when she finished it, she was smiling and chirping out random words and phrases. Turkey.

Real

I don't know who you are. Almost 2 months ago, I took a test that confirmed that there were hormones in my body that meant you were were. Probably. And your presence certainly has affected how I've been feeling since about that day. But that was all chemicals.

Today I finally had some real evidence that you're in there. It took a long time as the doctor moved the wand across my belly. I had the chance to say some silent pleading prayers. Time to start to worry. And just about the time I was trying to stop my heart so we could hear yours... there you were. Squimy and shy, but with a strong heartbeat of 160 beats a minute.

Tears streamed down my face as I looked at your dad, grinning in the corner.

2: mostly sunny with parts of terrible

Willa turned 2 yesterday. I would like to write all about it here. Today I am living somewhere behind my sinuses (flooded) and above my lungs (murky). When the sandbags start working, and the Red Cross sends the sandwich cart, I'll fill you in.

Quick tidbit. On her second birthday, my daughter told me I was making her mad, and I should go to time out.

Touchy, touchy

For a while I had a crazy fascination with senses. Not all at once, but in phases. I was lucky to have this phase hit me while living in DC, a place of great variety.

It once lead me to alter a route on my walk home by many blocks so I could stare at the way a tailor had his thread organized by color the the window. So gratifying to see dozens of hues of one color, arranged from light to dark and covering the rainbow spectrum.

I would order plantains from the same place just to feel the density and sweetness on my tongue.

Coffee beans, lemon zest, mud, and 12 year olds experimenting with the new horizon of perfume kept my nose busy.

The stillness of the monuments at night and bustle of the markets on the weekend wore out my ear. So many languages, so many dialects.

The phase of touch sent me to fabric stores to fondle the silks and velvets. I'd run my fingernails against and then with the grooves on corduroy. I grasped the arms of friends wearing fuzzy sweaters. Cold water, hot wax, smooth leaves, rough carpet... my hands were constantly roaming, looking for the next high.

And one day David, a co-worker took his braids out. And I asked if I could touch his gloriously gigantic Afro.

All side conversation stopped. I'm pretty sure the air left the room. The look he gave me... so violently offended. "Hell. No," he said. I quickly apologized and tried to explain.

He didn't care. I was just a white girl from the suburbs who went the stereotypical way of wanting to touch the exotic hair of a black man.

And I let him make me feel ignorant and small. Until this week. It was not him, or his hair, or his race that I was interested in. It was just the texture and looking for the next touch. For some reason that moment was replayed in my head while in the car, and I am letting it go.

Human toddler song Jukebox

Over the weekend Willa was in the back seat and randomly started singing Old MacDonald.
"moo moo 'ere and moo moo 'der"
Big breath in, and then: "DAAAAA-Deeeeeeeeee- Ohhhhh!"

double the fun

We had an eventful morning...
doctor: "There it is... that's the heartbeat of your second child. Oops, baby's active, let's move this around a little to see if we can hear it again. Yup, there it is."
-Warsha warsha warsha (that's kind of what it sounds like)-
doctor: "Hmm... let's move it just a little more...." pause while more warshas... and then overlapping warshas... long pause...
me: "What's in the background there?"
doctor: "That... would be the sound of your third child's heartbeat. Any history of twins in your family?"
Just kidding. April Fools.

Today is also the birthday of my Grandma who left us in December. Thinking of her.