Sinkis in the news

I really like that the Grand Rapids Press captures and publishes families in the act of having fun about town. Now all 4 of the Sinkis have been published. The only drawback is Henry is being a huge diva this week.
On the left is Sunday's spotting of us at the kids museum with Lisa, Ken, and MaKenna. On the right is a picture of Willa and I at the Gardens a while back.

Shortcake tooks a lonnnnnng time

This:

took a very. long. time. And 70 or so minutes into it, Willa entered the kitchen, said, "that's wonderful, mom. But where's her kitten? I wanted her kitten on the cake too." I sent her out, took 10 deep breaths and continued decorating.

Four Years Old

I've been observing this stranger walking around my house this week.

She resembles someone I feel like I knew. She actually reminds me a lot of me as a youngster.

Willa turned four years old yesterday.

She came down to my side of the bed at 3 am, afraid of the thunderstorm. At 4, I took her to the couch with me so Jim could sleep. We whispered for a while.

"You are four years old now, Willa."
"No, it's not day yet."
"But you were born at 2:51 am, so you're official now. Happy birthday, sweetie."
"Do I look different now, mom?"
"Shhhh....let's talk when the sun comes up."

I nuzzled her back to sleep, thinking about how she and I dozed in a hospital bed together 4 years ago.

I occasionally verbalize my thanks to her for making me a mom. On her birthday, she responded with, "thank you for making me a Willa, mom."

What a great kid, what an incredible adventure.

Dear Children of the world: I'm sorry

She looks cute and innocent, but she's planning something diabolical.


So, if Monday's headlines read that zillions of small kids awoke on Easter to find no hidden eggs or baskets of goodies, you can blame it on Camp Sinki.





Willa informed me this morning of a major plot she's been developing. She's going to capture the Easter Bunny. She's gone as far as to decide where she'll stow the dogs so they don't scare the Easter Bunny away. "I'll keep him in a box in my room, mom, and let him out every year so he can go hide eggs."





We've bargained that if she can catch the EB, she can keep him. And that she needs to be sure that she was the last on his list this year.





I'll keep you posted.

not a fan of rationing

We used to set out a dish of dog food for Arlo and Greta, and made sure it always had food in it. They self-regulated well, and we didn't have to worry about them overeating. Then Greta doubled her width.
For about 5 months, I've measure out their food in the morning and after our dinner. They eat it, and wait for the next meal.
This week, I've noticed they weren't eating. I was starting to get concerned.
I got out of the shower this morning and heard *plink plink* Hmmm... I peeked around the corner to find Henry carrying the measuring cup to the dish with 5 pieces of dog food. He repeated this four times before I let him know he was being watched.
So, they've been eating what I've set out, and what I've seen as "leftovers" were just Henry's handouts.

counting blessings

Willa and Henry were on either side of me, happily nibbling on peanut butter and jelly and chatting with each other.

"I am a very lucky mom," I told them, "I have two wonderful kids."

Willa's eyebrows knitted together. "Mom... am I one of them?"

"How many kids do I have, Willa?"

"Two."

"Well, then you are, right?"

"Good, I hoped so."

Henry laughed and threw his shoes on the floor.

Happy Spring

Willa, Henry, and I sat on a large wooden deck that overlooked the Blandford Nature Center woods. We ate oranges and graham crackers, and listened to birds. It was warm, and serene.

Later we walked on the trail, Henry holding Willa's hand during the less flat points. We saw maple sap collection buckets and greening ferns, and recovering owls.

We came home and chalked the sidewalk. Jim arrived home and we all played outside.

One of the new crocus is up, and is the sweetest buttery yellow. Peonies are pushing up their red nubs. Mums are sending up leaves.

Spring officially starts on Saturday. At camp Sinki, we're not much for "official."

Escape

"You know..." I told Jim, "they don't have passports. We could cross the border and they couldn't catch us."

Over the past three days, she refuses to listen, and he refuses to eat.

checking in

I'm certain this is the longest I've gone without a blog update.

We're doing just fine.

Right now it's raining all of the snow away, and I'm grinning. We have 5 patches of purple crocus blooming next to our house. The tulips are stretching leaves out of the ground.

Jim's got the first three chapters of his thesis done. Closer to the degree, and still with all A's.

Willa got a new bathing suit. That evening she put it on Henry. He ran around cackling.

Willa and I went to the Ferdinand and the Bull concert from the Symphony. It was great.

Henry and I went to the GR zoo this week. He was more interested in the ducks in the pond than the lions on the other side of the plexiglass.

Jim and I went out tonight. All by ourselves. So nice.

We all went to a farm owned by Jim's coworker, Robin. We played with piglets, goats, chickens, horses and cows.

I've had less time on the computer, as our home laptop died. While I miss my online outlet to the adult world (HA! That didn't come out right, but I'm not changing it), and am frustrated about an impact on the ole job search, I'm getting more done at home and away.

weekend roundup

The weekend "done" list:

Friday evening:
acquire the remaining bits of Jim's Polar Plunge Costume
Willa's haircut
Turn the kids loose at the small mall play area, pleasantly run into friends

Saturday:
Bundle up and cheer Jim as he jumps into Reeds Lake for the Special Olympics fundraiser



Go to a bowling party to celebrate our friend's newly minted "Certified Financial Planner" status
Visit with Jim's parents
Cuddle and soothe Willa through hours of crying as she deals with her first (big girl) ear ache.
Stop the evening nursing session with Henry (after 16 months bittersweet)
Go to a friends house to consume wine and food and just BE with some excellent women (not worry about possibility of incoming calls from home; Jim can handle any issues with Willa)

Sunday:
Tylenol (see above)
Church
Drive to Lake Michigan to walk on the frozen heaps of water at the surf.

Feed and clean kids, kiss their sweet (and once again healthy) foreheads goodnight.
Ignore the piles the busy weekend has caused in the house.

Tomorrow is another day.

Willa's new 'do

Willa wanted her hair shorter than Henry's ("then I can be a boy!!"). That, obviously didn't happen.

Because she heard that birds might use hair to make nests, we came home with a pony tail to put in the garden.

PS, sorry Mom. It is darn cute though.

Willa words

Mama, my hair is like a cape for a superhero. A cape that -(wide eyes here) - comes out of my head!

I will be sad when I am a princess and I have to go live in Disneyland*. It's so, so far away from Michigan.

Henry! I need to to be quiet! This said at 3 am at my parents house after he cried for a bit.



* Someone told her that all princess live in Disneyland. I suspect it's the same someone who took her to the store and came home with princess valentines for the girls in her class. Nothing is sacred.

Not really dinner appropriate conversation

Jim: So, she asked me how the balloons got up there at the grocery store. And I told her that little monkeys blow them up, climb up the poles, and tie them there.
Me: Jim!
Jim: Okay, sorry. -sigh- Willa, there's something called helium, it's like air, but it's light and makes the balloons float. Monkeys fart helium.

Willa adds to her collection of loved items

Two days ago I took the kids to a local plant nursery.

Wait, let me back up.

Cabin fever/winter blues/seasonal affective... whatever, keeps trying to capture me. I fight back. I picked up a gardening magazine last week, and have been making hot tea at night and slowly reading it after the kids are asleep. It's like a mini-getaway, and it seems to be working.

There was a spread in the magazine about house violets that caught my fancy. When I moved into Jim's house, he had some beautiful violets that I promptly - though accidentally - killed. Seeking redemption (from Jim and the violet plant genus) I took the kids to a local plant nursery.

And found an adorable tiny violet to add to our terrarium. Willa fell in love with her own tiny plant (mini version of this) and I was willing to invest $3 in her happiness.

Yesterday, she asked me to bring it to school when I picked her up so she could show her friends.
And then after that? It went on a field trip to the Meijer Gardens. She carried it the whole time in a paper bag, cooing at it, and showing it to anyone who would look. I think we amused a few volunteers.

This morning I found her with Arlo on the couch. Phew, I thought, he hasn't been unseated by a houseplant. Except the plant was resting on the arm of the couch, watching over both of them.

what he says when he sees feet. And, strangely, chickens.

Willa + Arlo

One frigid morning a few years back, I pulled myself out of our warm cocoon bed, grabbed Jim's grey pull-over hoodie sweatshirt, and went to make coffee. From that day on, the hoodie has been mine. I had it, I liked it, it was mine.

In very much the same fashion, Willa has laid claim to Arlo.

Our upstairs consists of Willa's bedroom, attic space, and the room at the top of the stairs that I call our media room. It is the permanent home of our combined CD and book collection. Right now it also holds many bags and totes of clothes that are now too small for our rapidly growing children (sigh). In a month, the piano bench under the window will harbor hopes for Spring in the form of seedlings (grow, grow, grow).

Willa has been lonely up there. "I'm all alone," she states with sad eyes. I know it's a ploy to put off bedtime another 10 minutes, but those eyes... The fish tank was downsized and moved up into her room. "I'm still alone."

Two weeks ago, she started showing more interest in Arlo. I wrote about him a year and a day ago here. He's not my dog anymore, pals. In Baltimore, I would eagerly pat my bed, hoping my new dog would make a good cuddle and reading companion. He would give me a moment of his time, before hopping off and lying on the ground at the foot of my bed.

He sleeps in Willa's bed.

Right this very second, he is lying on the couch with Willa. His head is pressed against her shin and she is rubbing his longer, softer mane through her palms.

She talks to him constantly, and demands that he follows her through the house. When this all started, he was still very much the prematurely grumpy old dog who preferred to get attention on his own time, and spend the rest of his day napping under the kitchen table.

But now he wants to be with her. He's learned that little hands, that - two years ago - used to tug at his ears and poke his eyes, are now able to scratch and rub and pat him. He is recruited to wear tiaras and tutus and in exchange, she offers constant affection. He is her patient sidekick.

Tomorrow Arlo and I celebrate 7 years together. I suspect he'll be otherwise occupied.

I found the missing sippy cup

Yesterday Henry and I were playing on the floor in the living room. I watched him as he stood up, went to the bookcase, and slid open one of the doors. He pulled out a sippy cup, took a long drink, put it back in the bookcase, slid the door shut again, and rejoined me.

a) so glad it was water, and not day(s?) old milk
b) cup was immediately taken for washing

Willa and Mom go to the symphony

Willa and I had a "girls date" on Saturday morning. I took her to see a Grand Rapids Symphony Lollipops concert. They did Hansel and Gretel, and were joined by members of the GR Ballet. Great show for someone who is 3. Great value, and perfect duration: $5 for a ~45 minute show. They'll be doing a different story in March (details here) and if you have a preschooler (or a little older or younger) I highly recommend this.

Here's the scene:
We're in the auditorium just before the show gets under way.
"Why does...."
"What is..."
"How come..."
starts eleventy-billion questions in a not quiet voice. She's excited.

The conductor strides out in a purple shirt.
"Who is..."
"Why is he..."
He talks for a bit, introducing the different instrument families. She LOVED the tuba.

And then the lights go down and the entire symphony plays the opening note.

I feel Willa shaking next to me. She bolts out of her seat and gives me a giant bear hug, then a grin. She giggles and sits back down. I guess the excitement was too much.

It was pretty awesome.

movin' on up

Remember way back when I was one severely deficient in vitamin D?

0-14.9 ng/ml = Severely deficient
15.0-31.9 ng/ml = Mildly deficient
32.0-100.0 ng/ml = Optimal
>100.0 ng/ml = Toxicity possible

Guess who is in the "optimal" bracket now? 42, baby!

Where I "Jam on It"

I've been staying up too late recently. There's something magical about the house when the kids are sleeping, and Jim is either sleeping or working away at his Masters class. There's silence.

And so I stay up way later than I ought to, soaking it all in. No one is pulling on my arm, or whining - yup, it's been a rough few days, and my rose-colored sunglasses are missing after Henry emptied my purse for what could be the 32nd time today.


I recently found a new blog to read during this late night me-time. Basically, it boils down to "young woman, new city, zany adventures that wouldn't have been tackled in old city, and therefore new life(ish)."

And in the spirit of her blog, I give you my own rip off of Not That Kind of Girl:

Not The Kind of Girl: dons a funky hat with spandex hot pants and midriff shirts to shimmy and shake it on MTV (if, you know, MTV actually played music videos) as a back-up dancer.

I am: shamefully out of shape, chronically sleepy, and fairly clumsy

I am not: Fly-girl material

The Scene: I'm in my living room, tightening up sneaker shoe laces as well as my own resolve. I had already had a good inward chuckle at myself in the fitness aisle of Target. I laughed again at the checkout as the "Hip Hop Cardio Workout" dvd crossed the scanner, was put into a bag and handed to me.

Me? How the heck did THIS happen?

I decided to start feeling better, and actually do something about my body. The truth is there is no reality in me getting to a gym (time and money issues - no excuses there, real roadblocks), and I detest being cold, so winter walking is out (that is, admittedly, an excuse). I had started pricing home exercising equipment and mentioned it to my mom who agreed to loan us their treadmill. It wouldn't fit in Jim's HHR - we didn't even try - and it wouldn't fit in a mini-van we travelled in during Thanksgiving (Jim needed it for work in the area). There was a quasi agreement that mom and dad would bring it to us (ye-haw!).

So I waited, and made the day the treadmill arrived in the 616 area code, my start day for a new fitness day.

...and scheduling or some other thing hasn't brought the treadmill yet.

I grew restless and guilty and took the love handles by the... handles and opted to go the dvd route. And, well, if I were going to be spending time and effort, I might as well have some fun.

So... Target, dvd.... and a moment in my day when a woman instructs me with a perky smile to "Jam-on-it."

The Verdict: "Hip Hop Cardio" is kicking my butt, and it's fun, but at about minute 4.5 I remember a moment in middle school when a group of friends decided to make up a dance to something on the pop charts. I went left when they went right, and never quite got that spin down. But, then it wasn't any fun. Now? I laugh at myself and proceed. Extra bonus: the dvd came with a kickboxing workout that is also working nicely for me.