Henry says...

Today Henry called his quesadilla a "K...E-I-E-I_O."

And when he saw me pull a tampon from the cupboard, his eyes lit up and he begged for a "cheese stick too?!"

also titled, "Why I spent an hour locked in my room with 2 beers"

Jim's back in the classroom this term. He's taking two classes now, and has only one left. He's done really well thus far and I should give voice to the huge part of me that is a supportive partner. He's working hard on his Masters degree, and even harder on balancing the demands of school, a full time job, and a family.

He had class last night, and got home at 10 pm. And he'll have one tomorrow night. Thursday he has an evening meeting, and tonight he went to another meeting.

Tonight was going well; the kids and I walked to the playground, had a great time, came home, talked with the neighbor kids and then it was time for bath. They both enthusiastically undressed and got in the tub. Moments later, Willa called out (in alarm) to announce that Henry had pooped in the tub.

Grumble, grumble... kids out, toys out, water out. Scrub tub with baking soda and vinegar. Toys to the basement to soak in bleach water. Bath #2 drawn. Kids in.

And moments later, there's yelling again. While I was scrubbing the tub for the second time in 20 minutes I wondered where this was coming from: 2 new teeth this week has slowed down the eating.

And when Henry had to endure a cool shower - the hot water was gone after 2 full tubs and me doing dishes - he screamed.

I called Jim at 8:45 and left the following message: I need you to come home. I'll be the one who is drunk.

I am not typing drunk. But those two beers, some pretzel rods and an hour of Glee lifted spirits. Though probably not as much as when, searching for some silver lining, I asked Willa to tell me one thing she liked about me. She replied, "I love you because you give the best hugs. Can I have one now?"

Yup, rough night. Tomorrow is a new day.

Henry's trying to figure it out.

Henry's been listening to Willa try to "train" Arlo a little too closely.
I was getting him dressed this morning, and here's how our conversation went:

Me: Henry, you're getting so big! You're a big boy.
Him: Hen-we bad boy.
Me: No, sweetie, you're not a bad boy. You're good. Henry's a big, good boy.
Him: Aaaa-me (yes, my 19 month old son is getting a kick out of calling me Amy this week) bad boy.
Me: No. Momma is a girl. Momma is a good girl.
Him: La la... bad boy?
Me: No, Willa is a girl. She's a good girl. Henry is a boy. Daddy is a boy. Momma is a girl.
Him: Hen-we boy.
Me: Right! And mom and Willa are...
Him: Bad.

Right now

Willa has just informed my that "the bam-boom needs some water."
She means bamboo.

Henry has just told me, "happy plant day."

"Because it left its tracks"

Here at Camp Sinki we value compassion, honesty, kindness, and a good joke.

Here's one (it's situational and must be done in the proper time and place: outside just after going over railroad tracks):
Person 1:"Hey! There was just a train through here!"
Person 2: "How do you know that?"
Person 1: "Because it left its tracks."
And then everyone present laughs.

This is an old joke that my dad's dad told him, he told us and on and on. Recently, Willa was in the van with her grandparents and great-grandpa. She told the joke, and (my mom reported) my grandpa cracked up.

But now the old joke has gotten really, really old. As in, I take different routes to destinations based on train track presence to avoid the "HEY!" coming from the back seat. And, given our location in the city, it's difficult to go track-free.

So. Every time we go over a set of tracks, Willa starts the joke, and demands that we participate. We are duty bound to ask, "how do you know" and then explode into appreciative laughter after. We tried to wean her by just not laughing, but she said, "guys! Laugh!" We tried to teach her new jokes.

Nope.

This week we went over tracks, Willa set it up, we swung, she delivered the punchline. Jim and I were silent for a moment. And from behind my seat, where Henry sits there was a completely fake and forced, "ha. ha. ha."

The joke is renewed.

Dear Scientists

MEMO

TO: Scientists
FROM: Willa
RE: Pluto

"I want to tell those scientists that Pluto should be a planet again."



When I suggested to our indignant sky watcher that she grow up to be a scientist, and speak to others to convince them to reinstate Pluto, she said, "that's a GREAT idea."

Career path: set.

7 x 5

So, I went ahead and turned 35 yesterday.

Gosh, I'm a lucky gal. Willa and I were playing when she jumped up and hugged me, "MOM! It's your birthday! Happy birthday!"

The kids and I went to the zoo. Jim came home from work early for birthday cake (before dinner!). He and Willa made a delicious pineapple upside down cake.

In addition to the days away in Traverse City, Jim hunted down a new Americorps sweatshirt. It's strange to have one that doesn't have paint stains and dirt that never came out, but so nice to have something to remind me of a very special year in my life.

And then we all went to Gaia for dinner. This is the vegetarian place in town, and we don't get there as often as I'd like. I loved my veggie hash, and Jim found a lot to like in the Mean Green Burrito (maybe we'll be back sooner than later now?).

We finished the meal with Henry dumping a half glass of ice water on me.

Jim had an evening meeting; when he left, I took the kids to the Meijer Gardens. Local folks, I haven't thought much of Chihuly until yesterday. Go! Go see it!

I ended the evening in a less than awesome way: on the couch for an honest to awful migraine. I know this sounds ridiculous, but in the absence of ability to play with my three favorite people in the house (luckily Jim returned just in time), I sat in a quiet, dark room thinking about what a strangely fantastic past year has been.

I didn't plan to lose my job, but while I've been spending time looking for the next step, I've been mindful of the time I've been given to concentrate on other priorities.

Two afternoons ago, I was sitting on the floor, surrounded by Little People Toys and listening to the kids chat with each other. I had this song in the background and when Michelle Shocked got to the "I think I'm a housewife" lyric, I grinned.

It was, indeed, a happy, happy birthday. Thanks y'all for being in my life and making my life so much richer.

Birthday eve

"Dad," she whispers to Jim, "bring your ear over here... I want to give mom 2 dresses. A purple dress and a green dress. With polka dots. They should be brown."

As Willa suggested gifts to Jim she got louder and more active in her dinner chair.

She stopped and looked at me. "MOM! This is secret."


Henry has been singing "happy... to you" all day. He has been carrying plaster cupcake magnets around yell/laughing "HAPPY CAKE!"

My birthday officially starts in, I guess, one minute. The kids are giddy. That and Jim's terrific concert in Traverse City surprise makes me feel honored, indeed.

Sweetness follows

Our night time routine with the kids has settled into plucking them out of their shared bath and then playing man-to-man defense. Jim reads Henry his stories, sings him a sweet song, and tucks him in. I take Willa upstairs for her stories, a discussion of the day, and kisses.

Last night, Jim was taking Henry toward the crib. "Goodnight, Henry," I said, "I love you."

He replied, "I love you too, mommmmmie."

And I teared up a little. For some reason the "too" made a difference. He's not just repeating what we're saying; he understands, he knows, he reciprocates.

Away and back

Three cheers for Jim!

As an early birthday present, he whisked Family de Sinki to Traverse City for a mid-week getaway. Tuesday night he and I went to the Opera House for a Martin Sexton concert. "Wait," you're thinking, "what about the tots de Sinki?" He asked his parents to come visit their favorite city away from home and to watch the kids while we were on an honest to goodness date.

Family getaway and some nice time with my husband: awesome.

The concert, by the way, was amazing. Martin Sexton plays and sings on of his favorite songs for you here. This song continues a theme that has been presented for me to ponder lately: becoming who you are through not becoming other things. I'm liking it.

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.