Trees to the left of us, Lake Michigan to the right...

If you are not from Michigan, or if you've never been close to a Michigander (old school! Whatever "Michiganians"....) you may not be familiar with the travelling state map. Hence the photo I've lovingly posted here for your reference

The Sinkis packed up and headed north for the weekend. Mama Sinki (that would be me) had a work program in Petoskey - marked by the blue diamond above - and I brought the clan. While packing, Mama Sinki thought of her lovely son who eats his fruits and veggies well, but not so daintily yet, and packed double the clothes necessary for a one night trip.

We got to the fabulous Holiday Inn Express on Friday evening. Pushed by Willa's enthusiasm, we were in the pool moments after checking in. Willa was a fish. Henry was... a screeching, stretching, kicking fish.

The program on Saturday morning went wonderfully (pat on back).

After the program we loaded up and headed out. Papa Sinki had a wild look in his eye and suggested we not go home that evening. So... road trip! We took 2 lane highways from Petoskey to Traverse City to Sleeping Bear Dunes (purple smiley face). It was a chilly day and windy, so we opted out of hiking up the dunes with a 3 year old and a hefty infant. Instead we drove the scenic road in the National Park. We got out for a moment and walked to a dune lookout. Lake Michigan was beautiful for the minute we could bear to be in the cold wind.

As we drove we played "eye spy" with Willa. There was no guessing, just exclaiming, and the most often spied and declared item was forsythia. Toward the end of the game, she was chanting and then mumbling "I spy a forsythia." When she was silent, I turned to see her totally asleep. Jim and I talked and talked and talked.

Red barns and trillium carpeted woods. Twists, gentle curves and hills... Visions of tourism encouraging "Yes Michigan!" This state we live in? Gorgeous. We saw cows, chickens, horses, sheep, a llama, deer, turkey. When we had to stop the car so I could nurse Henry a man on a bicycle asked Jim if we needed help. And then we watched him walk his bike up a long, steep hill.

Henry and Willa entertained each other in the back by making noises at each other. In a few years, I know they will be much less entertained by each other, but will still be making noises...

They were such good kids, especially considering how long they were strapped in the car.

We landed in Manistee (yellow moon) Saturday night and found dinner and a place to stay. Again a pool. Again smiling kids.

In the morning, Henry had his first waffle and shared about 1/2 of it with the floor of the Days Inn. We got on the road again (no pool in the morning. "Sorry Willa, someone pooped in the pool, and it's closed." Motherhood has made me a liar. She immediately blamed Henry.).

Manistee to Ludington where we enjoyed the beach from behind the windshield at the city park while the kids slept. We stopped at a produce shop and I bought still sandy asparagus and flavored honey sticks.

Ludington to Pentwater where I opened my eyes from a little nap when I heard Jim say, "I drove to Pentwater to show my family this view and everyone is sleeping." I think I said, "it's nice!" and closed my eyes again.

Pentwater to Little Sable Point (orange sun)where we all got out to walk over the dune and stretch a little. Willa and I put our feet in Lake Michigan. It was cold. I fed Henry on a sand dune, gazing at the Lake and then at Willa and Jim who were hunting for ladybugs. Serene (unless you were a ladybug).

From there in search of lunch. We wound up at Turks (Jim where were we?) a very sweet little place that you should visit if you're ever in _____ (Jim?).

From lunch to Leonard Street all the way home.

It was a pretty awesome weekend. Soon, we'll be headed north again to Mackinac Island (pink starbust). Where we'll be able to experience a deepening green and spring flowers unfurling all over again. For that, we'll remember the camera.

moodiness

Chapter 4 in the handbook for teen pregnancy prevention

I am feeling like the poster child for the reason several industrialized countries give new mothers a year of maternity leave. In other words, I'm kinda of an exhausted mess.
Today. Today the little feeling of messhood has a big ole magnifying glass over it. I promise, I'm all right, but geez...
Last night during her bath Willa looked at me after laughing while floating in the water and said, "my ear hurts." At 2am, I finally got her to sleep. Between those times she cried and yelled. She wanted go lie down with me upstairs in her bed. We'd get to her bed, and she "needed" to be downstairs on the couch. Or in mom and dad's bed.
I did not sleep much the night before (thanks, teething).
I was worn down and pretty much willing to let Willa have what ever it took to quiet her down and get her comfortable. Watching Annie on the couch with me? Sure. Telling her stories about my pet chicken? Okay, 1 am is a good time for that. Rocking, head stroking... Hey, who wants ice cream?! Just kidding, there was no ice cream...
She would not let Jim comfort her. So, he worked to get Henry back to sleep after Willa's wails woke him.
Finally, after holding her very close and shushing her for 20 minutes, she fell asleep in my arms.
I felt my muscles relax, laid her in bed with Jim and went to the couch. My head hit a pillow.
And then Henry woke up.

Five years ago, I went to hear Gullah music at Grand Valley. It was a fun night that reinvigorated my appreciation for live music and other cultures, and the weight of history. In between the music and the after concert milkshakes with Heather, I met Jim.

Jim, who said I should share more about the SEED school here. Okay...

My closest friend there was Nancy, a woman from NYC who was a little younger than me. When the kids went home on Friday nights, we would sit in the common areas on couches and try to figure out how to improve the way the school worked. We tried to figure out how to reach the snotty 7th grade girls who wouldn't let go of their protective shells. We laughed about how the nearly 100% African American, very urban DC student population reacted to being "guided" by me - a white girl from Michigan. I'm pretty sure they thought I nearly Amish. Nancy and I got through the DC sniper together. We presented united fronts to our bosses and the girls who thought they were our bosses. We encouraged each other nearly every day. Because we needed to (I've mentioned we were both in charge of twelve 7th grade girls when they weren't in the classroom, right?). We drank wine. Because we needed to.

Nancy and I were together in suburban DC for a day out with other friends/coworkers/people we put up with because we were all in battle together. She was a shopper. Wait, she was a Shopper. I? Am not. We had gone to what felt like our 80th store when I protested. "I am tired of shopping! Let's do something else."
"Amy," said my friend who was raised on concrete and bus fumes, "I would go into the woods for you. If you said, 'lets look at just one more tree' I would do that for you. Now, we're going into this Banana Republic, and you're going to like it."
And she probably would have, despite her fear of any bug and disdain for soil or... nature.

Speaking of nature... the bunnies have left the nest. They were grown, and now it's time for them to move on. Like any self respecting pseudo parent, I am quickly changing their bedroom into a den.

I planted a wisteria vine and basil last night. My Mother's Day/in honor of Henry Plum Tree needs to be planted this evening. I'm excited because it's beautiful and symbolic and we might get fruit.

How's that for tangental?
Jim -> Nancy -> bunnies -> garden?

Sweet Jim, who would have guessed 5 years ago that we'd create this?

Daycare pick up conversations...

"Henry is going to start visiting the older infant room."
Silence from me.
More.
More.
"Already?"


"Willa's in the corner over there. She's at 'the doctors having babies'."
"How many this time, Willa?"
She proudly hold up 10 fingers.
"Well, maybe we'll get a reality television show..."

I-r-o-n-i-c

Last year in an effort to quell the strawberry patch raiding chipmunks and rabbits, Jim made a cage of chicken wire and surrounded our plants.
On Saturday I did my house walkabout, inspecting the progress of all of our plants. I did a double take in the strawberry patch. There, behind the cage (again built to keep out critters), was a nest with several adorable baby bunnies.

On the move

Between point A and point B is a flash, and his name is Henry. The fella is getting around in two ways. First, he slithers along on his belly, elbows pulling him along. Second, he sits upright and bumps along on his behind. He moves centimeters at a time, but gets there. I hope to get a movie to share here.

Inside and out

We're fine. I haven't posted here since Tuesday, which made my mom wonder who in the house was sick. There is no sick. There is only teething, and sunshine, and bubbles, and "who is making dinner tonight?" Also? Where did the last few weeks of April go?

We had a great weekend. I planted about... ten thousand zillion peonies (probably closer to 20). A woman on my "mom's board" agreed to swap some tomato seedlings for those. While I planted, Willa did her part by plucking all of the worms out of the newly dug soil and carried them around. She thinks they're cute. She'd lovingly place them on her pillow at night if we'd let her. The kid shrieks if she sees a spider in the house and will bolt if there's an ant, but she dotes on worms.

We had an adventure this weekend: a few hours at Blanford Nature Center where we saw frogs and turtles and a snake. We were out on a trail when Willa announced she needed to go to the bathroom. I am hoping that she has stopped telling people, "I got to go potty [deep breath in and eyes wide] in THE WOODS!"

Henry's tooth #2 has finally broken through the gums. He is getting around on his own now, one centimeter at a time. I set him down on the floor in front of the full length mirror on Saturday while I brushed my teeth. From the other side of the wall, I heard a clunk and then a Henry giggle. I peeked around the doorway to see him licking the wall. I put him back in the middle of the hallway and watched as he hopped on his bottom toward the wall.

Jim and I spent a good portion of the weekend doing yard work and dreaming about an ideal design. A small platform deck under the maple tree? Some wood chips there? Leveling out the pile of grass clippings and leaves and composted produce? Vinca vine where the grass won't grow? Transplanting more of the lily of the valley?

I'm going to need some new work gloves.

I noticed a pair of cardinals over the weekend, spending some time on the front porch. Turns out, they're nesting in our huge pine tree. No sign of rabbit nests yet, but I'm sure they'll come.

Before getting all withered and grouchy

If I worked at the Secretary of State office (before time ravaged my good will toward man and all) I think I would keep little candies or stickers or something at my station. I would share them with the folks who came in on their birthday to renew their license/tabs. I know some would rail against procrastinating, but those are my people.

I spent 30 minutes yesterday at the Plainfield SOS office. It was smaller than the one I normally go to and grungier. But it was no less entertaining.

I did not have the paperwork they mailed me because I put it off long enough that it got lost, or Willa colored all over it, or Greta chewed it, or all of the above (which have, indeed happened to documents deemed important by others). So I watched with some envy as a woman stood at their self serve machine, tennatively punching the keys. When it spit out new tabs, she literally did a fist pump and shouted "YES!" as though she were at a slot machine.

I had a book. I read it while standing in the first line. Here, one stands in line for a number and to be told if you sit and wait or stand in another line. So, I read while the gentleman behind me stood on my heels reading over my shoulder and talking on his cell phone about the robot. "Broken! We need it looked at asap (he said those letters as though it was a word)." I got my number and waited. He got his number and sat 2 seats away from me, making more calls. "Is it the Toshiba? I've called Cal." He was put on hold. "Good book?" he asked. I glanced his way and nodded, "it is." I continued reading. "My wife likes to read," he said, "it's like her desert." I was wondering if he interrupts his wife's dessert time when he was taken off hold. My number was called, I paid for my new yellow plate sticker and went outside.

I hope his robot is fixed.

It's interesting to spend time with the random mix of humanity on ones birthday.

Blessings: counting them

This one. Lies on the floor and does not roll over. He pivots from his belly and gets around; toes where his head was only seconds ago. On Saturday, from a sturdy seated position, he lunged his mouth at my finger and I felt the little splinter of his first tooth on this lower gum. This morning he woke up laughing.

This one. Sat on the bench under the lilac with me yesterday after the rain. She was in her princess dress and fancy shoes. The bright pink popped against the grey skies and deepening green grass. She swung her feet under her and cradled, in her hands, a worm.

This one (the one who isn't bronze). Woke up when I got back into bed at 6 am. He rolled over and sighed, taking my hand in his. We both fell back to sleep while the neighborhood birds started their routines.

Greetings - electronic, phone and paper - have found their way to me today. I am so pleasantly and serenely... full. Today I am thirty-four years old. And it is a very, very happy birthday.

For my GR peeps

Jim and I were discussing this in the car on the way to having 2 of his teeth removed.

I'm just glad they didn't send out press releases a week ago. The media only had a day and speculated all sorts of things. Did anyone else have dejavu of Suzanne Geha hyperventilating because she was so excited about the BIG development downtown? Remember last year's River Grand development on the public works land? Anyhow... some of the guesses were way cooler than what's actually happening. Or maybe the actual event will be a lot more exciting than it looks to be in print.

"We should do that!"
"What?"
"We should put out a press release that an event will be coming in a year and that it will change the face of Grand Rapids forever. And wait to see what the media and public speculate. We'll choose the best idea and try to get financial backing..."

Pals, the conversation on the way home was even less amusing. Poor post sedation Jim asked me five times if I had met the doctor and if he said things went well. Patient is resting comfortably in bed now. I need to go make him some scrambled eggs.

Curious overlap, with lots of back story

I used to work at the SEED School in Washington, DC. I searched the blog here and it looks like I've never written about it. I went there after working at Habitat for Humanity. I was looking to work with kids. They were a public, charter, boarding school (not at all a typical boarding school) looking for someone who would be a house manager for incoming 7th grade girls. A house manager is someone who is with students while they're not in academic classrooms. Waking them up and ensuring they were showered, dressed in uniform and had their homework was my responsibility. After classes, I tutored them, monitored their computer activities, help work out the social snarls of being twelve, took them to dinner in the cafeteria, ensured they were in touch with home, hung out, and got them to sleep at a semi-reasonable hour. It was a pretty cool job. Except that the school was fairly isolated, we worked 6 days a week, 13 hour days, and there wasn't a lot of support from the school administration. Or the parents at home. It was trying, and when the founder of an organization in Baltimore called me to say the position I had applied for months ago was now open and she'd like to meet with me, I jumped on it.

I was only at the SEED School for 5 months. Leaving broke my heart. It hurt some of the girls. I made some real friends (as one does in the middle of a "battle"). It was this time of my life that drinking wine and roller skating in the parking lot on a Saturday night (when the kids weren't there) was really the only thing that made sense. I left DC and headed a little North for what turned out to be a disaster. That job that opened up? Was held by 8 other people in the past 3 years. Eight people who share a "whooooo.... she was kinda batty, eh?" story with me about our former boss.

Anyhow. That is all to say, I used to work at the SEED School.

I am a proud Americorps alum. I've written about that here.

Yesterday, a whole bunch of people for whom I would love to make grilled cheese sandwiches gathered at the SEED School to listen to and watch President Obama sign the SERVE act into law. Read Obama's speech here and then put on your work boots, pals. There's a lot to do.

Photos from visit to the Motherland

Oh boy, do I have the photos to post here.
Breaking it up into pieces, we'll start with a few from Easter weekend which included a birthday party for Willa and MaKenna.
First up, Benjamin and Henry, hanging out.

Over here, we have my dad and Willa:


Grandpa (Grandma pictures for another post) and Henry:


A second later, a crack could be heard; we did not eat those eggs:



Here are all the yahoos:

The littlest yahoos:

Willa either admiring her cousin or thinking about "one. million. dollars..."

MaKenna cracking Henry up:

It was a great visit. These cousins are going to keep us grown ups on our toes.

those wacky offspring

Henry does not like to be written about here. How do I know?

I write "Henry slept through the night and the village rejoiced" and the next night he's up every 90 minutes.

I write "Mr. perma-smile is a delight" and the next day he's the crankiest he's ever been.

The seas are disturbed under the good ship Henry James. I'm sure it's teeth. I can see the outline of most of his uppers right under his gums. It looks like he's going to get all of them. At any second now.

Given the pattern I described above, I just jinxed us into more days of teething purgatory.

Quick! Change the subject!
Willa was singing her name the other day. I've mentioned it before, but she sings it to the tune of "Skip to my Lou"
W-I-L-L-A
W-I-L-L-A
W-I-L-L-A
it normally ends, "...and that spells Willa."
She was singing in the bathtub, while I was hanging clothes. I heard her sing, "...and that spells trouble."

One day short of 6 months

Today Henry is the exact age Willa was when I started this blog (190 days old, to be exact).

I have written so much about Willa lately; the wacky things that comes out of her mouth astound me. Her personality is so vibrant, so capriciously the essence of 3...

Henry - at this time in his life - is steadily happy. He grows and learns every day, but so much of that is internal, difficult to detect and record. I have noticed him reacting to his sister: he laughs when she gets near him and he reaches for her. He does this with the dogs and his toys too, but not to the degree that Willa gets. Henry has started eating veggies and loves them. Carrots first and sweet potatoes and peas next. He eats them faster than I can spoon it. He is an efficient eater and, as a result, does not get too messy. He is not the greatest sleeper yet - we have a standing date on the couch at about 3am still. And then again at 5:30 (if he wants to stand me up like he did last night, I'd forgive him). But he gets what he wants (needs?) and is immediately content.

Someday he'll ask me what he was like as a baby. I can tell him that he was genuinely the happiest baby I have ever seen. He smiles with his whole body (happy kneecaps, shoulders, toes...). He flirts and gurgles and rocks with a huge gummy grin.

Henry has made the transition to family of four-hood easy. He is fun to be around, it is such an honor to be his parent.

Sleep and "All that Jazz"

I don't know if y'all are big musical watchers. It seems that in just about every one, there's a big scene where people begin to sing and dance with elation a la "I Want to Live in America" in West Side Story, or "We Got Annie" in the musical about that lovable redhead. Who does that?!

Me. Today. I am singing and dancing and jumping to click my heals today. No lightpole will go un-swung around by me today. Mr. Bluebird's on my shoulder and zip-a-dee-do-dah!

Pals, Henry slept through the night. Which means I slept through the night. *jazz hands*

He slept from 9 pm until 8 am. This is the first time he's slept more than 4 hours in a row. I'm not expecting him to start (know what? it's hard to type and whistle with joy at the same time) doing this all the time, but it's a habit I wouldn't mind him picking up.

Looking for some fun musical entertainment? Click here.

Birds and Bees, the first conversation

"Henry's bagina is funny, mama."


Big breath in -

-and out.


"Henry does not have a vagina, Willa. Henry has a penis."
"A peeeeeeee-nis?!" [insane sugar-hyped laughter] "that's silly!"
"Boys have a penis and girls have a vagina."
"I have a bagina, mama. You too."
"MmmmHmm."
Then she listed every person she ever met, and guessed their gender anatomy with good accuracy. This took a good 20 minutes. I can't wait to hear a report from her teacher this afternoon.

A conversation reported by Miss Whitney

Willa to Seth (Willa's school pal since she was 3 months old and he was 4 months): "I am three now."
Seth to Willa: "I'm three too, Willa!"
W -> S: "No you aren't. I'm three!"
S: "I'm three!"
back and forth for a minute
Miss Whitney: "Willa, Seth is 3, just like you."
Willa to Miss Whitney: "I don't want Seth to be 3."
Miss Whitney: "There are some things we just can't control. Seth is three."
Willa: "I can't control that Seth is 3. Sometimes I can't control my mom and dad at home either."

Three

Oh Willa,

Well you went ahead and got another year older on Monday. Three.

I woke up with the sun, and couldn't get back to sleep, I was so excited for you. We were all staying at home to celebrate and hang out. I went to the kitchen and made pancakes. I got a small bowl of fruit together for you. I put the fruit, a sippy cup of milk, and your special "3" shaped pancake on a tray and went upstairs. You were awake and reading books in bed.

"Is my birthday here?"

I laid in your bed with you while you ate your special breakfast. I told you about the morning of the day you were born. How you came in the middle of the night and in the morning, you and I danced in the hospital room, the light just right...

We came downstairs and started the day.

Which meant that daddy and Henry played for a little while before leaving mom and dad's room. You and I watched Sesame Street. Did you know I was talented enough to see Sesame Street from behind my eyelids? Hey, I was up at the crack of dawn making pancakes...

You opened a few presents in the afternoon:

We made a birthday crown:

We went to the zoo, where even this normally reclusive lady came out to wish you a happy birthday:

We went to the park where we walked and played:

We came home and played around:

Then we ate dinner, sang "happy birthday,"ate cake and ice cream. Later we opened and played with the rest of the presents.

Daddy gave you a bath, and I took you upstairs to read 3 stories from your new Harold and the Purple Crayon book.

It was a great way to celebrate the day you entered this world.
Happy third birthday, Willa bird.
Love always,
Mom

Hint of Christmas card letter...

Y'all are so nice. Thanks for the kind words of support in the comments after my bad, awful day post. I am like the Pointer Sisters with "a new attitude" today. They sang that one, right? Yes I did just reference the Pointer Sisters. See how totally not hip I am?

Some reports: house finches are trying to squat in our awning. We have had them reside there with bad results in the past, so despite my delight in the males prettiness, I'm rattling around in hopes of discouraging residence.

Henry... aw Henry... I hope everyone knows a baby like Henry. I'm not sure what we did to have the privilege of nurturing such a happy kid. I know I'm biased, but he seems to be loving life. He smiles, chortles, flirts, and flings himself - laughing - at whatever interests him.

I have shared that Willa is a little more girly than what would make sense, given her mom is somewhat anti-pink. Actually, I guess that would make a whole lot of sense... that goofy universe... This morning I pointed out a blue jay. "I want it to land on my finger," she said. Like, suddenly she's Snow White singing in the forest? Actually, she's never seen Snow White, but the thought of her making that connection amuses me. Have I shared here that she won't let us cut her hair because she wants it to drag on the floor? No more reading Rapunzel for her. Willa, our sweet, imaginative kiddo will turn 3 on Monday.

Jim has finished up his insane March and is plunging into his somewhat less insane April. He's back in Master's classes, which means full Thursdays for him. He's got the week off to destress. He's probably plotting to read a lot. I'm hoping to cajole him into getting the kitchen backsplash done.

I took a stroll around the house to take garden inventory this morning. Wild violets are blooming. Peonies are pushing red stalks up. I know we may get snow yet, but I'm liking this hint of Spring weather. Things are moving and stretching. I'm doing the same.

I had a fortune cookie last week. It read: a surprise announcement will free you. Isn't that a cool one?

Keep an eye out here, pals. I sense big doin's on the horizon.

night and day

Last night she sat in the bathtub while I paged through a guitar songbook.
'"I want you to play ABCD, mama." I played it and we sang together.
"Play catch da moon."
"I don't know that one, Willa. Sorry."
Whines about "da moon" got louder and louder.
I played and sang "Happy Birthday" instead.
She started growling and then yelling. I watched closely to be sure her head wasn't spinning.

This morning while the family was hustling to get out the door, she dragged the mandolin (what she thinks of as her own guitar) over to the hallway where I sang to her last night. She opened the song book and started strumming and singing "Happy Birthday."
She looked at me and smiled.
"Willa, do you know whose birthday it would have been today?"
"I don't know."
"Great Grandma P's."
"Is someone singing to her?"
I hugged her, "you just did, sweetie."

Showing signs of wearing

Pals, I am tired.

If wishing made it so, Henry would be a better sleeper. Also, I'd have fresh watermelon on my kitchen table while I typed this.

Yesterday was kind of a rough spot for me. We got up, I took the kids to daycare. Got Willa out of the car and had her waiting on the sidewalk. Pulled Henry, in his infant carrier, out of the car and we walked in. I set Henry down and his teacher said, "uh-oh... it's looks like he spit up."

Which was her way of nicely saying, "holy moly! The kid is drenched from chin to toe!"

He's normally not a spitter. I think this was a reminder that mom needs to be mindful of garlic intake.

On the way home I started to get upset. I took my baby out of the car. I walked him 40 yards into his room. I set him down. All without looking at him. All because I was too distracted with "what's next."

The morning was actually a good morning after that. But I was consumed with "what the heck is wrong with me?!".

It still troubles me. I think the working full time, and being a mom of 2, and not sleeping has finally caught up to me.

2 days off next week. Should be good.

Stuff on our heads #8 :and stuff in Henry's belly

Jim's got a Willafly on his head. This was 2 weeks ago at the Meijer Gardens.










We've been feeding Henry rice cereal for 2 weeks. See how blurry he is in this photo? When he's eating, he WON'T stay still. He rocks and shrieks and his hands fly into the air. Dude loves a spoon.
This was his first feeding, and since then hasn't been in the exersaucer for meals. Too much freedom of movement.
We're going to have some interesting messes when we start with veggies.

Like Lord of the Flies... with pizza

In our little bubble of family time, Willa, Henry, and I (Jim was at class learning about Accounting practices) had a great outing at Chuck E. Cheeses last night. We started off with a pocketful of tokens that slowly dwindled as she passed anything that looked like a car. Henry joined her for a few rides. We got our photo taken by the sketch machine. We ate dinner, watched the show, and played some games. Willa attempted the tunnel crawl twice, but backed out after the first ladder rung and then the second. She wanted to say hi to Chuck, but backed off when we got 12 feet away from him. She instead hid behind me and waved with a pretty worried looking expression. Henry was happy to watch the lights and the buzz around us.
It was a pretty relaxing and fun time out.
Except for, you know, the other people there.
There were 4 birthday parties. One of the parties had about 40 guests. I am not exaggerating. They were all hopped up on birthday cake and the power of a small cup of tokens and parents who were not watching them.
I am not a crowd person, I recognize this. But this was no crowd, it was a mob.
Someone broke into a skee ball ticket dispenser, pulled the tickets out and threw them on the floor in ribbons. A 3 foot tile pile of tickets nearly caused a riot. We moved on to a different area.
After we had our fill of Chuck E. fun, we went to cash out our tickets. Right behind about 20 kids with over 300 tickets each. So, the line...
But my kiddos did great and waited without even whining.
We left with a pink rubber worm (pretty close call with the lizard, eh?) and a pink beaded ring. Last night she placed the ring on the worm and gently placed them on the window sill next to her bed.
She sighed and said, "I have a grrrreat time at Shucky Sheeses. Night mama."

Me, the kids, and a 6 foot tall mouse

Willa has finally filled up her sticker chart. So, wheeeee, we're heading to Chuck E. Cheeses tonight. Jim has class, so I'll be negotiating the token to ticket to prizes (can't wait to take home our small rubber lizard) and her alternating fear/adoration of Chuck when he comes out to walk around.

Side note: I think I've shared here before, I was Chuck E. in high school. Once, while kneeling down to be at eye level with a tot, a hooligan came up behind me and knocked my/Chuck E's head off. That poor tot is probably terrified of all costumed characters as a result.

When Henry was born, we expected some issues to arise with Willa. I know about regression, and expected it. Nothing happened until Henry was about 2 month old and then Willa, who still sleeps in a diaper because of night time wetting, started pooping in her diapers.

So, we changed the incentive chart to be specific to this issue and darlin' got a lady bug sticker every time she came downstairs with only a wet diaper. 12 stickers fills up a chart, and as a prize, she's received various trinkets. This time around it's a destination.

Truth be told, if we were parents with scruples, she'd have filled up this chart and gone to visit Mr. Cheese about a week ago. I know this is kind of defeating the whole system. Rewarding behavior at the time of behavior is the way to go. I'm all about catching her doing good stuff. But March has been insane in Sinkiville, and so the occasional forgotten sticker was swept under the rug.

Skiball here I come!

Passing notes.

"LURK mommy! A Robin!"

Someday she'll say look, but in the meantime, when she says "lurk" I giggle at the vision of us tiptoeing around.

"Who told you what a robin is, Willa?"

"Oh.... Dwamma P..."
"Grandma is pretty smart, isn't she?"

Like I said yesterday, we spent the weekend at my parent's house. It was the first time all 4 of their grandkids were in the same room. It was chaotic and loud and absolutely wonderful. My Grandpa joined too, for 4 generations of fun.

It's a big job, I have: being a conduit between my parents and their grandkids (W. Michigan campus). Ensuring that the kids know they're being thought of by my folks, telling the grandparents what the kids are remembering from visits, how they're being spoken of in absence, keeping everyone up to date and know that they're loved. In person, it's easy. My dad gets on the floor with the kids to play. My mom takes them for walks... This distance and increasing communication... important stuff.

Full speed ahead!

I sat on the floor of my parent's family room, marking the tags of the clothes that Henry has grown out of. Was it just 5 months ago that he could fit in these newborn clothes? And then 3 months ago that I had to box up the 3 month clothes? How lucky for us we didn't have many 6 month outfits. Our gigantor of a 5 month old is wearing 9 month clothes. My "little" happy baby... growing so fast. At least nephew Benjamin might get some use out of some of these...

A few hours later, I was on the sidewalk of the house I grew up in. Grinning and tearing up a little bit. My mom walked aside Willa, who was atop a small bike with training wheels. "I can push da pedals. I know how it works." I heard her say as she rode two houses away, three, four... She'll turn 3 in a few weeks.

I could have taken both of these at once, but the double whammy was almost too much to bear.

... and now a shout out to my breasts

When I was doing this breastfeeding thing the last time, I often commented on it. Feeding Willa, the feelings about her publicly groping me when she was hungry, the weird awe that feeding my baby from my body calls for, pumping... all of this was well documented on the sinki.
This time around, the novelty is kinda gone, and it's just practical and something I do. No lessw of a magical thing, but not new, you know? This time around has been so much more successful.
I am typing this with a pump hooked up to me right now. Yup, lactating right this second. And gracious! I'm producing like a champ. 6 oz from one side - I know! Look for me at the State Fair this summer (if the state budget allows for a fair this year)! I am not only keeping up with Henry's demands, but exceeding them. I've a tidy stash in the freezer.
Willa wanted 8oz a feeding while away for 3 or 4 feedings. Henry is content - and obviously thriving - at 5 oz 2 or 3 times while at school. By 3 months with Willa, we were having to purchase formula to keep up with her.
Today Henry is 5 months old (!) and my breasts have been - until Saturday's leap into cereal - his sole source of nourishment. Happy anniversary, gals! Keep up the good work!

Irish eyes, smiling

St. Patricks Day: the Hallmark holiday of the beer industry.

Y'all know I love all things

silly, and this is one of them. It's funny how over the years my celebration of this holiday has evolved. My mom - every year - cooks corned beef and cabbage. When we were little cardboard shamrocks and leprechauns and rainbows were put up on the walls. In college, having bar plans was a must. I celebrated once year in Savannah. It was like Mardi Gras. This year St. Patricks Day means to me: stimulating the economy by purchasing duds for the kids. Maybe a green dessert tonight (if the lunch hour allows), and smiling at the pride my Grandma P had in her Irishness. Happy day, folks. How are you celebrating?

Sweet discoveries

This week I entered the bedroom to discover 2 sleeping kids. And - super high 5 for Jim and I -we got them into their respective beds for the night without waking them. The next day, I walked around the house to inspect the flower beds. And this was my happy find.

On the other side

This morning I was walking out while another mom was walking in. She was there to drop off her 20 month old son. And in the crook of her elbow was her 2 week old, nestled in his car carrier. She looked exhausted and a little alarmed. Usually she's kind of a walking ray of sunshine with a huge smile and a chipper greeting.
She looked at me blearily.
"It gets easier!" I told her.
"Ohmygosh, thank you for saying that."
And right at that moment, I wanted to follow her home, make her a cup of tea and do her laundry.
We have friends who are expecting their second in a few weeks. I really hope she takes me up on any offer to help. Those first few weeks of family expansion are rough.

Just for the record...

Henry had a check up yesterday. He is 27.5 inches long (this falls in the 75% on the growth chart) and 19.5 pounds (off the chart here). He had 2 shots and an oral vaccine. He cried harder when I tried to put him back in his car seat than he did immediately after the shots.
Doctor says Henry is lookin' good.

trying to pack up winter

I've been feeling kind of quiet lately. I'm noticing a lot of my blogging pals might be too. Either they're not posting, or are posting pictures instead of text. I wonder what this is all about?

For me, it's a phase. I'm quietly wishing away winter and noticing the green tips of bulbs climbing through the hard packed ground. Greeting tiny crocus buds, shut tightly against the last of the winter. Looking for old friends: tulips and daffodil, lilac and forsythia. Watching the ground for the greening of the bleeding heart. Awaiting the mornings when humidity rushes into my lungs when I take that first morning breath outside. And watching the thawing yard for the first bouncing robin.

I am making the last batches of soups and chilis and homemade breads. Soon, I will change out to fruit pies and salads.

I am forcing myself to enjoy the last of sweater indoors weather. And keeping myself from storing away boots and mittens too early.

All of this anticipation takes some energy. And that is why I've been quiet. I am certain when Spring bursts open and I post my favorite Spring poem, I'll be full of words and images again. But right now, I'm trying to nourish my tap root after this lonnnnnggg winter.

One track mind

This morning, Willa woke up pretty determined to sway me to take her to Chuck E. Cheese's. What? We haven't been there in probably 9 months, but we were out on Alpine last night and she saw it, and her little mind started whirring...
So, I'm asking her what she wants to wear and she responds "I want to go to Shucky Sheeses." I pick out her outfit. I ask her to put her big girl underpants on, and she responds "I want to go to Shucky Sheeses." I get her dressed. I ask her to brush her teeth, same response. I brush her teeth and tell her it's a school day, and there's no way I'm taking her there today. She starts crying and chanting about "Shucky." And then she starts undressing. Uncooperative kiddo this morning.
I told her, "the answer is no." While I'm in the shower, she busts in, slamming the door open and yells with her her hands on her hips, "the answer is YES mama!" and walks away. I laugh silently at my headstrong daughter while rinsing my hair.

Sick shame?

Does anyone else feel like a personal failure when they get sick?
Colds and coughs get into our family pretty easily via the Daycare Express.
We've been battling the stomach flu for three weeks now (three seperate waves for me). And I'm feeling like it's my fault, like I am less than my health enhanced peers. I am ashamed of being sick. Is that normal?
I am washing my hands so much, they're cracked and raw and no amount of lotion or oil is going to heal them. We've cleaned and disinfected. I've scoured the fridge and pantry in case the germs are coming from a food source.
It should be warming up a bit later in the week. I'm opening all doors and windows.

She loves being a girl

Moment with Benjamin

I unwrapped the tiny bundle to get a look at my nephew's hands. His fingers are very, very long. I listened to Bill and Jackie tell the story of his birth. I peeked under his hat at the mass of thick, black hair. He sighed in his sleep. My heart sighed. "He has the sweetest lips," I say. He does.
Bill walked over and, without a word, subtly tucked the baby blanket back around his son.
My brother is a daddy.

She learns

I've been singing and spelling Willa's name to the tune of Skip to My Lou here. She's been in a funk and kind of glossing over paying attention to anything that isn't shiny, or packed with sugar, or Henry.
Last night, I was sitting next to her at dinner. She was humming, and suddenly turned to me and sang her name with a grin: "W. I. L. L. A. and will was her name -oh!"
The flu has given up the kids as hostages, it was a sunny day, and my kid listens to me. I'm smiling.

Stuff on our heads #7

Doocesque: Greta channels Chuck.
Photo and idea credit to Jim.

Willa's new cousin

I've just showed Willa photos of her new cousin. Who she immediately demanded to go see "right now."

"Poor baby. He is sad?"
"No, sometimes babies cry."
"Because they're sad?"
"No, maybe they're scared a little."
She looked at me, widened her eyes and whispered, "of monsters?"
"No, they're scared because it's loud and cold -"
"- and there are monsters."

Newly minted family

Dear Benjamin,

I will not meet you for a few days. But I don't even need to be in the same room to know I love you. Know that we love you so much that we won't visit you until the flu has officially left the Sinki family.

Dear Jackie,

You did it! I can't wait for all of the gory details. It was fast, and you're a tough gal. Welcome to the sisterhood of motherhood. Benjamin is fortunate to have such a wonderful mom.

Dear Bill,

You. Are. A. Dad. I am so excited for you to grow a bond with your son. I can't wait to hear about his development through your voice. Benjamin and his daddy are in for some mighty good times.

Willa and Henry are excited about playing catch in Grandma and Grandpa's yard with Benjamin and MaKenna in a few years.

Congratulations, new family.

With so much love.

Photo credit and my gratitude to my sister Lisa who posted these on her Facebook page so I would feel maybe a little less far away.

Project Valentine"s Day

Cabin fever has Willa (and the rest of us) bouncing off of the walls. If I can keep her busy, my sanity stays in tact. We've done a lot of projects this winter. Above you'll see the Valentine's Day treats that Willa and I made for her friends and both of the kids' teachers. This was an easy project for Willa to help with. We just melted the chocolate disks into ice cube trays with fun shapes. A day later, we popped them onto pretzels and microwaved them for 15 seconds.

This particular package was for Seth. Seth is Willa's best friend and her buddy since they were both 3 months old. She told us a week ago that she was going to marry Seth. And they were going to have 10 kids. And 10 doggies. And 10 ponies. And 10 jellyfish.

Karma?

When I was younger and [pretended that I] didn't know better, there were a few times that I may have overindulged in libations. And then paid for it the next day.

I shared with you the highlights my decadent Amy Da- I mean Presidents Day. And last night the karmic hangover showed up in the form of a mean ole bug in Willa's tummy. From 2 am on, I dozed with one ear constantly connected to her needs. I'd hear a gurgle and would present her with "the bowl."

She's such a sweet kid. Right after she'd finish and we got her cleaned up, she'd smile and say, "I feel better now, mommy." Then she'd nuzzle her feverish forehead against my neck. Poor kid. She's napping in our bed now, with Arlo and Greta standing (more like co-napping)guard.

Jim has a fatalistic view of good times on a roll. He worries when things are going too well. And when the occasional bad thing happens, he tells me it's the balance of the universe. I tell him it's just Life unfolding, and there's no message there. And then we watch "My Name is Earl."

Over the weekend, while on our tour of NW lower Michigan we were having a wonderful time. The kids were great traveling buddies, the meals were good, the pools were fun, the room was more than we needed, Jim and I were really, truly enjoying each other and the kids. I was thinking, "this is what Valentine's Day should be." Kind of a floating holiday/kick in the pants to express appreciation for the folks around you. Like Thanksgiving, but with more chocolate. Jim, it turns out, was worried about what bad thing was going to happen.

Life happened while we were giggling with the kids in the pool. It was fun, we were smiling. Willa and I emerged from the locker room, showered and dressed and ready to venture outside. Jim was holding Henry in the hallway, also dressed, but his feet were bare.

"Where are your shoes?"
"Someone stole them."

We spent some time that day trying to shake off the feeling of violation. "People suck," he said. "Naw..." I replied, "just one person in this instance."

Willa sadly declared, "I want daddy to get his shoes." And I reeled at my disappointment in some people who do, indeed, suck.

And then I said honest-to-goodness prayers out that the shoes would be found. That, maybe, someone accidentally grabbed his size 13 shoes thinking they were their own.

The hotel has not called. Jim, graciously, has not said, "I told you so."

So, tell me, pals... do you think that the universe has some mechanism that slaps you around a little when you get too comfortable?

Missing shoes aside, it was a terrific 2 days. Here's photographic proof:

Like Disneyland for moms

Yesterday I had the day off so I could, you know, properly honor the current and past presidents. I did so by kissing Jim goodbye (his workplace does not observe Presidents Day) and taking the kids to day care.
And then I went to a fabric store. And a craft store. And a Target. And I walked nearly every square foot of these places, just looking. Just enjoying the muzak. Just blissfully taking my time because there was no one needing a diaper change or telling me that she needed the snow globe with the Easter Bunny in it. I bought a book. I bought a box of chamomile tea.
I drove home in the sun and made tea and read many pages of the book.
I thought - just for a second - that I should be starting dinner or doing some cleaning or...
... and then I stopped. And sipped some tea and wallowed in me-ness.
When I was younger I used to take pleasure in spreading my toes in the fresh spring mud.
It was like that yesterday a little.
Then I took the longest, hottest shower.
And then I read more.
I also ate chocolate.

When I picked up the kids, I was more relaxed (all the better to mother you, my dears). When Jim came home, I felt like I had more to offer him (all the better to partner with you, my love).

It was a good day.

It has happened.

Henry is no longer a patch whip-stitched onto our backpack for family journeys.
I don’t know when it happened – it wasn’t the moment I knew I was pregnant, it wasn’t the first time I held him… though it was love at first “oh my gosh, that test says ‘pregnant’!” and adoration and devotion when the doctor first laid him, white and gooey, on my chest. He has fully become a part of me, my life, my family. We are at the point where I could not imagine us in this moment without him.
Over the last (2 days short of) four months, through his patient eyes and his full body smile, he has gently woven his being into mine. Into the fabric of the family Sinki.

While in the pool over the weekend...

A little girl swam up to Henry and I. "Is that a boy or a girl?"
"This is a boy."
"He's really cute! Did you cut his hair like that on purpose?"

Henry naturally spots a mohawk. All of his baby black hair has fallen out except the strip up top. His little boy hair is coming in all downy and very light.

Sprucing up the neighborhood a little

Family de Sinki spent Friday and Saturday in Traverse City. Amazing how refreshed we feel after getting away for just a bit. I'll share more tomorrow, but thought I'd play around with the blog's look a little. What do you think?

stuff on our heads #6

this photo's subtitle: geez, Amy. Get to the post office and mail that hair.

Great Grandpa

"Willa," I said, "what would you like for dinner?"

"I not hungry."

"How about soup?"

"Nooo... I don't like soup."

"Sweet potato?"

"No. I don't want sweet potato."

"Frawstaches?"

"Otay. Frawwww - schases."

I play this joke over and over again on our unsuspecting daughter. Growing up, Grandpa (above) would offer us frawstaches to eat. Pals, frawstaches are the culinary equivalent of snipes. No such thing.

He's good with kids. You can see Willa's adoration and Henry's comfort above.

Vitamin D, the way nature intended

I am loving this sunny weather! It's like a conjugal visit from Spring.

I've decided that we could turn off the humidifiers in the house. Young Henry is starting to drool. And drool... and the windows are steaming up.

Stuff on our heads # (where are we?) 5?

Her giggling made me nervously curious. I turned the corner to see this coming at me:

Yup, that's Willa with her Elmo big girl underwear on her head.

Everyone is on the mend, including Jim and I who were a little sore after moving my entire office into our basement. The sun is shining, I don't have to lug the breastpump to an office every morning, and we're preparing for a quick visit to (the indoor parts of) the zoo. Happy in Sinkiville.

follow up

After writing the previous post, I scooped up my crying baby and rocked him in the sunlight. He fell back asleep. I looked over to see our orange tree has started to bloom.
Minutes later Jim came home.

And now the three of us are off to pick Willa up from daycare. She has a fever and is getting the boot.

A muffled cry of "uncle"comes from under the bed.

That's it. I'm waving the white flag, and asking for mercy. God? That sense of humor of yours? Tone it down, okay?
Monday night I got very little sleep as the little guy woke up at least once an hour, thanks to his cold (Henry's contracted his own daycare cold for the first time! No help from big sister Willa this time. We're soooo proud.) On a positive note, the company that makes the vaporizer fan that we've used when Willa is sick is replacing the fan that broke when the contact corroded the battery. I am a good little consumer.
Dragged myself into the shower anyway on Tuesday morning. Just before putting on my coat my coworker called to say the work phone line installer would be to our house anytime between right that second and 7pm. While Jim waits at home, I get the kids to school, go to the office to get a bunch of files and come home. I kiss Jim goodbye for three days (the Winter Games are this week), and wait for the installer. Who never came.
Tuesday night Henry again has troubles sleeping. His nose is plugged.
Wednesday morning I reason that if the phone guy blew me off, I surely would be at the top of the list for that morning. I don't leave home, entertaining Willa with a movie and Henry with something shiny. I work at the kitchen table, phone calls with coworkers and volunteers occasionally interrupted by the clucking chicken (see yesterday's post). At 1 pm, I got an email from the phone company to let me know I'm not on Wednesday's list at all, and that we're now shooting for Fri. Maybe Monday. I curse the phone company.
I am feeling stir crazy. Bundle the kids up for a little walk. We get 5 houses away before turning back. I curse the cold and lazy neighbors who haven't shoveled. We meet Maribeth and Allison to play. That. That was fun.
Don't sleep much on Wed night. Henry's sick continues. Drive 2 crying kids to daycare. Willa is sad that... I don't know what anymore. Greta licked her? Her granola bar broke? The earth is rotating? She's been somewhat sensitive this week. I think she's off because she misses her daddy. Also, mommy is being driven slowly mad by the phone company. Leave a now happy ("we're making playdough!") Willa and a sleeping Henry at daycare. On my way out, I notice that I won the "guess how many candy hearts are in the jar" contest. I guessed 432. There were 435. $15 tuition credit for this. I feel awesome for a minute. That was the uplifting moment I needed.
Get to the office, get organized, participate in staff meeting via phone. While on call, my cell phone rings. Henry's eye is suspected of harboring conjunctivitis. Blasted pink eye! I finish phone meeting, go get him and am now at home taking a break from getting more work done.
Jim should be home in a few hours. I plan to wait a whole 5 minutes before heading to bed with a beer.

Madam, kindly silence your chicken

Almost 2 years ago, I saw this clock and immediately coveted it. I finally ordered it. Every hour, when it's light out, the little chicken comes out and clucks. And every hour that I've witnessed it I've laughed loudly. I can't help it.

Jim was over the novelty after 2 hours. Just yesterday it clucked while Willa was dealing with the deep sadness that she had eaten the last mandarin orange piece. "Mama," she said though tears, "I do NOT like your clock." I am not counting this as an official vote, as only hours before she jumped up and down laughing, "MAMA! Your clock! Is [and here she said either clucking or clocking, I'm not sure]."

I know I have a little foam piece that matches the color that we can put over the light sensor to quiet mama hen down. I just love that darn little chicken too much to be motivated to find it.

Phil vs.Zoloft

Pals, I forgot to post the post partum depression text I had worked on and promised to share. Yesterday was Groundhog Day (this may seem like a big jump, but read on to see the connection). I normally celebrate the silliness of this high holiday. Jim and I usually host a party in honor of the prognosticating Phil. This year we're dealing with a family of 3 to 4 transition, and I'm moving my work office into our home, and Jim's got work stuff for most of the weekends this month., also we're still in negotiations about the kitchen remodel. So, no logistically possible time for the party. Yet... I don't really feel a need for it this year.

The party has served - for me - as a pick me up in the middle of winter. I hate winter. I get a little down during the winter, so gathering friends and family for merriment in the name of a groundhog? Perfect.

But this year I had the seasonal affective thing nipped in the bud when my wise doctor said, "um... let's get you on a little something for the post partum stuff before winter really kicks in." And then I sent her a truck full of flowers.

So, not needing a party reminded me that I hadn't shared my PPD stuff with y'all. I think (very appropriately) we'll reschedule the party for 6 weeks from now, when Phil says Spring will start. I'm not kidding myself: we could still have a blizzard in mid-March. But by then we can celebrate the cusp of melted snow and damp soil and crocus peeking...

Here is what I wrote about two months ago and didn't post because of technical problems:

Pregnancy, we all know, has ups and downs. One of my downs with both kids was some rotten morning sickness. Pregnancy 2 was a little more severe from the start, and I found some relief from Zofran, an anti-nausea medicine.
Both pregnancies ceased with beautiful and healthy children.
They also produced "just a touch" of post partum depression. Pardon me while I go all Brooke Shields here.
I'm not having a problem bonding with my baby. I don't (often, kidding, really) want to mail him to someone else. I am not having terrible thoughts about him - just want to be clear. I adore him. I adore Willa. I really like being a mom to both of them.
It's the small stuff that I found overwhelming: doing laundry, sorting mail, driving anywhere, what to make for dinner, when to take a shower... it feels so ridiculous to write this. It's true though; picking out a new shampoo brand nearly brought me to my knees in the store. Was I ready to go back to work? Nope.
Also? If I could, I would build a moat around our house and family and not let anyone in or out. Post-pregnancy, I've learned, I become a hermit, and I try to take the rest of the Sinkis with me.
If I haven't been in your life as much as normal lately, don't take it personally. I've been kind of blowing off everyone.
So, at this post birth doctor’s appointment, I talked to the doctor about it. "My name is Amy, and I have post partum depression." I left the appointment with a prescription for a breastfeeding safe antidepressant.
It's been two weeks, and I'm feeling more in control of my anxiety, emotions, and time. It's the medicine combined with the fact that Henry is finally getting over his cold. The few glimpses of sun we've seen have helped, as does Willa's enthusiasm for the season: every time she sees Christmas lights she yells, "it's CHRISTMAS!" Jim's hugs and words and actions are like cookies and band aids.
The other night we were in the car. Henry was wailing and Willa was next to him singing a Mary Poppins song at the top of her lungs. A few weeks ago, I would have been grinding my teeth and calculating the minutes to our house. Thanks to medicine, understanding, and time I was able to laugh at the irony of the moment "just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down..."
On the mend, pals. Stick with me.

Amy + Arlo

I was living in Baltimore six years ago. I had moved there for what I thought would be a dream job. It probably would have been if the director there wasn't insane.
I lived in an row house apartment in the artsy region called Bolton Hill. My landlady was in her 80's and swore like a sailor. My neighbors came in the door and quickly retired behind closed doors. My coworkers - all 3 of us - were so exhausted by the chaos of the previously mentioned insane boss, that we rarely socialized at night.
I was lonely. I found too much solace inside my apartment and in books and on the radio. I went to a Unitarian church, but was too painfully shy to "turn left" in the minutes between the service and social hour, and always found myself in my car instead of talking to strangers. I took books and letter writing materials to coffee shops and the local brewery, thinking I could be the interesting stranger that someone would strike up conversation with. I went to a neighborhood wine party. Once.
I was lonely, but it was also during this time that I found how enjoyable alone time could be. I got to know a foreign city pretty well by myself. I stayed in touch with people from other parts and places in my life. I read and cooked and learned and listened to new music and made day trips in my new Ford Focus.
But through all of this exploration I wanted a buddy.
It took 2 months to find the right one. I was looking for someone who was mid-sized, brown, and not too fluffy. Animal shelters are full of BIG dogs. Big black lab or Rottweiler or I don't know what it is, but it's too big mixes. And prior to moving in my sweet landlady agreed to allow a dog in my lease, so long as I could carry it up the stairs. She lived next door and didn't want to hear nails on the wood steps.
So, two months on the hunt, and one visit to the SPCA there he was. A small dog, standing near the front of his cage looking friendly, but worried. He was healthy, and one and housebroken, according to his profile. "I'd like to spend some time with this one," I told the volunteer. He ushered us to a play room. I sat on the floor and "Baby" (as they called him) smelled my hand. Soon he stood next to me. A few pats later he was on my lap staring into my eyes. We were in love.
A few days later, we were leaving the shelter. He was nervous and threw up (in my new car). The war was recent and I was listening to Arlo Gutherie on the radio. I couldn't call my dog baby, and was tossing out names. He vomited at the suggestion of Ernie (after Mr. Harwell). But when I said "Arlo?" he glanced at me with interest.
Days later I had to fly home for Lisa and Ken's wedding. Arlo stayed with an intern of mine. She ended up keeping him longer when the storm of the year came and Baltimore airport was snowed in.
Arlo and I have been together 6 years today. He changed the way I experienced Baltimore. I was still reading and listening to NPR and walking the neighborhood to fill my days, but I had another breathing being with me. Happy Anniversary, Arlo.

A small prayer of Thanksgiving

Yesterday I experienced one of the most perfect hours in my lifetime.
Henry was tired and couldn't calm down enough to sleep. I held him close and rocked him until he sighed and got heavy enough that I knew he was asleep on my left shoulder.
Willa climbed onto my lap, curled herself around my right arm, cuddled her face onto my right arm and asked me to sing with her. We sang "itsy bitsy spider" and "you are my sunshine" over and over. Eventually she trailed off, and moments later she was heavier too.
I rocked them both for an hour as the afternoon sun cast shadows through the windows. I listened to the melting snow drip from the porch and the breath of my sleeping children.