Lazy Sunday

More than a few times Adam and I have had the discussion that goes something along the lines of how we should make more of an effort to invite other people over for Sunday dinner.  I've got a list, and I've got good intentions, but then no phone calls are ever made or roast ever planned.  So here's my invitation to all those intended invites to go ahead and call me a big lazy-head. But when push comes to shove, I really like my Sunday afternoon nap, a day off of thinking too much about dinner, and the slow-afternoon time where we can just kick-it as a family.

Actually, I'm having a hard time thinking that I want to trade in on the kind of peaceful day we had yesterday for an afternoon of my barking orders at the kids and Adam just to get some elaborate dinner planned and the toys picked up off of the floor and random papers on the counter shoved into a drawer before anyone shows up. 

Instead the kids turned cardboard boxes into various types of vehicles (air, land, sea) with Saul even getting pushed around the room in a smart little roadster.  And Olivia spent plenty of time dressing up with whatever assortment of blankets, scarves, and skirts were available.  (And then she spent plenty of time dancing to her request for the the Sound of Music soundtrack.) 

We polished off the leftover cupcakes I had made for Saturday's swim meet (stop....it wasn't the only thing we had for dinner!). Isabel, who only licked off all of the frosting (they are made with whole wheat flour and zucchini afterall), handed hers back and said,  "I all done with my cupcake," and then in the same breath, "Please I have another?"

And I'm not even going to apologize like Adam's working on building a wheel for his winter bike wasn't an appropriate Sabbath activity.  It was probably more of a family activity than was my sitting at the computer working on photos and helping Max with his blog posts (oh, and cuing up a new soundtrack from some classic musical theater for Olivia).

But, yes, Max has his own blog now, and it's pretty darn adorable (and hysterical) if you ask me.  He'd been begging us for a while, so one weeked while I was out of town, he and Adam set it up together.  And the creative license has been him completely--right down to the blog's title.  I only have to assist with how to upload the pictures, but even that he's hardly needing me for anymore.  And he's got his routine down as everytime a picture was uploading he would say, "Can I dance while I wait?"  Then there would be 30 seconds of jumping off the arms of the couch and running around the room with Olivia. (And one more groan from me about thinking that I might as well never plan on buying a new sofa since it would only be destroyed within the first year by the circus troupe that always mistakes it for some important piece of equipment.) 

. 

We made the blog private just to remove some of the worry about him posting what he likes. So far we've sent out invites to basically just his aunts and uncles, but if there's anyone out there who wants to see the inner-workings of Max's mind, as well as a few choice facts about his favorite animal, then send me an email and I'll send you an invite. If anything, he's been way more prolific than I've been lately so you can at least see some of what we've been doing these days. (p.s. He loooves comments.)

So maybe next year I'll reevaluate if we can muster up any sort of energy for dinner guests.  Until then, I'm enjoying the life with a lazy Sunday.

Now We Are Six Months

The Stats

weight: 15 1/2 lbs

length: 26 inches

percentile: 14th
eyes: brown, chocolate (but were we expecting anything else?)
times rolled over: none (but that doesn't seem to happen around here until they're walking)

sitting up: n/a

sleeping: a full night (please! that's waay old news now!)

smiling: constantly

# of chompers: one tiny tip--just popped up on the lower right front

interests: grabbing whatever is near (especially a sister with long hair) and gumming whatever he's grabbed

fan club at the gym's day care: huge

NYC Visit: finally!

resemblance: duh?

Now We are Six

When I was One,
I had just begun.

When I was Two,
I was nearly new.

When I was Three,
I was hardly Me.

When I was Four,
I was not much more.

When I was Five,
I was just alive

But now I am Six, I'm as clever as clever.
So I think I'll be six now for ever and ever.

-- A.A. Milne

My apologies to a very cute baby

We spent two days at the beach last week in our last-ditch effort to say farewell to summer. I managed to not get any pictures of us actually on the beach, but I did make the effort to dig out my camera while at Funland on the Rehoboth beach boardwalk because I couldn't believe the size of this baby's....

well,...

see for yourself......

First Day of School 2009

Another year begun, and this year it's two kids going for the full day. I have been dreading it for weeks, but mostly because I don't love waking up early, or getting two kids to practice piano before 8am, and not just lounging at the pool in the afternoon making a good excuse for not doing anything around the house, and did I mention it means getting up early. I'm tempted to put up a little countdown gadget marking when summer vacation starts next year.

However, I have two very excited kids, and honestly, the excitement was rubbing off just a bit, especially for Olivia. She was so ready. After three years of watching Max get on and off the bus, when it came time to line up, she didn't even wait for him at all but jumped right in line and got on by herself. I could only be happy and proud for her, which surprised me. When Max started Kindergarten I felt a little like I was giving him away to the world--like here was the beginning of the rest of his life and the beginning of the end of my being a primary part of it. But I could only be happy for Olivia. Not because she's gone all day, but because now I know that even in Kindergarten she's still more little girl than big, and that she's still mostly mine. Maybe I'll mourn the beginning of middle school instead.

At the end of the day, they'd both had a fabulous time. Max's report was that his teacher told them that she will never yell, but that the closest she'll get is turning off the lights--"And that's not close to me at all!" So, I guess he figures since he doesn't sit near the light switch that she'll never actually be directing her anger at him. Looks like a promising year!

Back to School 2009

I know, I'm turning into one of those people by saying this....but, I can't help it.....So, is it just me, or is going back to school a much more serious business than it was when I was a kid? I don't remember having to bring this much stuff. I pretty much only remember being jealous that Jo Vailand had an awesome "Hello Kitty" pencil box and I totally wanted it.

Anywayzzz, this year I did get into the whole Back to School thing and I'm a little proud of myself for being more organized about it than I have in years past. Really, what that means is that we actually got the school supplies turned in early, and that I figured out what shirt Max wore on the first day last year so that I wouldn't put him in the same thing again.

Otherwise I'm short on my own good ideas, and since the good ideas of others are meant to be copied, we decided to have our own Back to School dinner.

Our theme: Be Wise

(But don't worry, the whole thing was pulled off without flower centerpieces, paper crowns, and bejeweled placemats, and we were all still very happy with it.)

First, Adam "flew" everyone to "Wise Land." (They looooved this!). There were even in-flight nuts and drinks, and I believe that they hit a patch or two of turbulence along the way where Max demonstrated that he had not stayed properly buckled in his seat.



Once in Wise Land, we had a dinner of garden green beans, bruchetta with our own tomatoes and basil, ravioli with a fresh tomato sauce, and Italian soda. Max made the place cards.

After dinner we played a game about being 'school wise' that was very conveniently found in this month's Friend. When it was Isabel's turn to take one of the cards and read the what-would-you-do-scenario, she insisted on reading it herself and very seriously said, "When I go to 'chool' I do poopies and pee-pees in the potty." (For the record, she still isn't, but apparently I'm talking about it an awful lot, and at least that's sinking in.) She also asked that when she goes to school will be be in Delaware or Africa?

After the game, they each recieved a back to school blessing from Adam and a new watch.
I think that even I'm ready to stop dragging my feet about summer ending.

Week in Review

Stuff from this week (because I feel like remembering it, even if no one else feels like reading it...)

The New Work Ethic

This week my kids figured out how to successfully avoid doing any household chores: cooperative play.

Yes, all it took was them spontaneously playing soooo nicely with each other (and for more than two minutes), that I found myself willing to pick up all the toys, put away all their laundry, and wipe down all the counters just to keep the good times rolling. Now I just can't figure out which should I be more shocked about.

Peachy

My elderly neighbor (not the ones moving this summer, but on our other side) has a peach tree, but she's so elderly that she doesn't pick the peaches anymore. The first summer we lived here she told me that I could pick up the "drops" worth salvaging off of the ground to use. So I did, because peaches are peaches after all, even if I have to cut out a few bruises to use them. And then I kept the ground free of all the rotten drops for her with the hopes that she'd give me license to pick just a few unbruised ones off of the branches the next year. But instead she told me that she was considering having the tree cut down just to rid herself of the hassle. Well, that got me in a tizzy, because in case you don't know me well enough, it's a crime to let good food go to waste.

I have to admit that I became a little obsessed about the tree. There were a solid few months when every time I heard a work truck on the street I immediately checked out the window to see if it was a tree truck tree. I started plotting how I could get on her good side in order to keep the tree alive. All year I waged a campaign of delivered baked goods, back yard visits, cards at holidays, waves when passing in the car, etc... And every so often I was sure to have a conversation something like this, "Oh, your azaleas are just fantastic this spring. I sure enjoyed those peaches last summer. How's that new hip holding up? Did you know that those peaches make delicious jam? "

Well, here we are, four years later and the tree survives--so far. Whether or not she recognized my very covert yet persuasive campaign, she's now given me full reign of the tree. So this year I picked, peeled, pitted enough peaches for a few pies, several breakfasts of sliced peaches swimming in heavy cream, and nine batches of jam. Don't even ask how much sugar that uses. Really I should say that I made sugar jam flavored with peaches. I've learned my lesson after the one year I made peach jam sans sugar using fruit juice instead. Think peach applesauce, except not as good as that sounds. And no one would eat it (including me).

Utils

The guy driving the ice cream truck hit pay dirt: the community pool. He's now swinging by the pool every afternoon. The first time I heard him I guffawed to myself thinking that he'd be sorry at his own expectations and ultimate stupidity since the pool already sells little frozen treats for just a fraction of the price (duh!). But no, apparently the duh is on me since the kids went streaming out of the pool and into the parking lot with their dollars in hand. No matter, I thought. I just chalked it up to the idea that the first time's a novelty, but that the next time he came around no one would bite. Apparently I don't understand economics these days because day after day the truck rolled in, and day after day the kids grabbed the fistful of cash that it takes to buy one stinkin' cone and went running out to meet him. And who's begging to be in line with them, but Olivia. Every day she's asking, and every day I'm saying NO. And then we're home and I'm making dinner and trying to keep people from sneaking Fritos and chocolate chips out of the pantry because they're sooo starving even though we're almost about to eat, and Olivia starts crying and crying about how she really wants an ice cream bar from the ice cream truck. And because I'm a kind and sympathetic parent who is interested in helping her navigate the world's pitfalls, I tell her that I'm. not. buying. any. ice cream. bars. from. the. truck! And does she want to know why? So I swing open the freezer and pull out the half-gallon of rocky road we currently are stocking (except that it's actually not even a half-gallon anymore, like all ice cream companies thought that we wouldn't notice that they're short shrifting us on that one--ha!) and explain that for $3 she can buy one stupid ice cream bar, or for the same $3 she can buy a whole carton! Now, don't you want a whole carton? And what did she answer? She looked away from me and angrily mumbled, "I still want the ice cream bar."

Well, I had nothing to say to her after that because I guess that I can understand how sometimes you really want something, even if the price is just utterly ridiculous. And then I'll try and remember how many plastic bead bracelets I can buy at Target for that fabulous jewelery I keep daydreaming about every time I get a Sundance catalog in the mail. We all have our foibles.

Dinner and After Dinner

Tonight we had the missionaries and another couple over for dinner. None of them had ever been to our house before, and over the course of the evening, I tell a story--one of my old standards--that Adam has heard me tell at least a dozen times before. Come to dinner and you too can hear it! But he smiles and listens and even laughs at the appropriate times (because I am a good story-teller, after all!), and from his reaction, our guests probably don't know just how worn out this particular story is. Later in the evening, Adam tells one of his own anecdotes, one that I've heard at least as many times as he's heard mine, and I can't help but smile. Not because we recycle our stories, but because after 11 years of marriage I'm still enjoying his old stories and his telling them. That's just how it is, and I'm pretty darn happy about that.

But after dinner when Adam loads the dishwasher, even after 11 years, I still have to re-load it. One of us is of the Martha Stewart philosophy where no-dish-should-touch-another-while-being-washed....and some of us are not. For the record, I fit in seven additional dessert plates, one more bottle, and two more cups.

FOUND

Celebrate. My lost Oreos have been found. Adam found them, but my favorite part was how for a few days following he still wouldn't tell me where they were, but instead taunted me by bringing out a few cookies here and there when I was extra snacky. And, if you're wondering, after 3 months, they turned out to be a bit soft.