2, 8, 4, 30, 9

It has been over 2 years since my last blog post. In that time we have moved once, celebrated much and changed rapidly. We bought Mark's parents' home in Woodbury last summer and have slowly allowed changes to transform it into our home. We enjoyed our first Christmas here this past winter. We cozied up to a warm fireplace many cold nights. In the Spring my gardening hands were tested and I would say this time I failed but Barbara's thoughtful planning and meticulous care allowed most growing things to live through my new guardianship. We have met new neighbors and celebrated a years' worth of birthdays at this address. 

Lily turned 8 in July. She had a fantastic mermaid themed pool party. 11 girls were present for the fun. Going from 7 to 8 has been the biggest leap in my estimation so far. She acts and feels like a young lady now. She is interested in alone time with older female relatives, makeup, slumber parties, clothing and electronics. She still validates her brother's existence on an hourly basis but there is something more 'babysitter' and less 'big sister' to it now. She reads at a 6th grade level, does math with ease and thoroughly enjoys school. She can swim like a fish (or mermaid) and LOVES Minecraft and YouTube videos. 

Finn turned 4 in August and has been giving us a run for our money. He is the epitome of a  little brother and is (as my dad says proudly) all boy. He loves superheroes, video games and creating little worlds of his own. He doesn't ever walk, he sprints. He talks a mile a minute and no story ever really ends. Things he experiences get wound into the fantasy worlds and characters and people become interchangeable. There are names you won't recognize and words you can't understand but he is telling the damn story regardless. He eats like a trucker and needs constant reminders to be polite. He still sneaks into our bed at night/early morning and for that I am so grateful. My last baby has very little residual baby left and the tiny flecks still remaining are absolute blessings to me.

This year I turned 30. I have never felt nervous or sad before a birthday before. I am a big believer in BIG celebrations. This age was momentous and towered over me like a pall on my youth and vitality. I was told horror stories of bodies giving up on people, metabolisms evaporating and wrinkled skin with graying hair.I was going to wake up ancient, flabby decrepit crone and there was nothing to be done about it. Luckily and realistically not everything went to hell in a hand basket. On the contrary, Mark planned and executed a surprise birthday with so much love and happiness that I call it my best birthday ever. This is a feat you well know if you've met me. Samantha and I (my bff from middle school) share a birthday and would SCREAM excitedly from one end of the halls to the other at each other... so there you go. In essence turning 30 reminded me to take things in stride and make myself happy. Being the mom and wife and Kate (or Cake) I have grown into in these three decades keeps getting better so bring on the next stage.

Mark and I will celebrate our 9 year wedding anniversary in a few short weeks. This summer has taken us on separate vacations, work schedules that conflict and general hubbub and bustle has limited our time together. We reject that wholly. Our best selves are when we are together. We have started a routine of alternating morning runs and joined forces to coach Lily's soccer team. Living with a man that has become my touchstone on all things big and small has been the best decision I ever made. My children, my life and my sanity stem from him and I will be lucky to celebrate our marriage every September for the rest of our lives.

Noting my lapse in blogging made me feel quite amiss and rereading old posts reminded me of small things the kiddos would do that I had forgotten. Here is me hoping to do better this year. Cheers.

Heart Flutters

This weekend we were talking in the car on the way to the gym. Lily usually dominates the entire conversation and this time was no different. It is funny because Mark will start talking and almost every time Lily cuts over him with what she has thought up to talk about. She can't hear that he was talking and even if she could I am not sure that would stop her from initiating her own topic and barreling through any roadblocks such as something Daddy was going on about.

The conversation began with her wondering if she could have a ball when she grew up. I informed her that she has more than 10 but less than 20 balls currently at our house. She clarified with saying that she wanted to attend a ball. Mark and I explained that we don't really have many royal type balls in this country but that she would likely attend many dances and a prom or two. She was very excited by this prospect and I asked her what kind of dress she would like to wear. She described two very different and very detailed dresses. One was a lace up top like Rapunzel has with a full (she said fatter) skirt like Cinderella's. It would be purple on top and pink on the bottom with pink shoes. The second, and more racy, was a skinny blue dress with a neck like this (she traced a rather deep V over her chest) and confetti sparkles. It would have a large bow on the back with different colored sparkles and she would have blue shoes. We discussed corsages and she was very adamant that it have a lot of green but that the flower should match her dress.

This brings me to our walk to school this morning. For the past week or so, we've come a little earlier and the before school care has let out at the same time as we arrive. There is a boy named Zach in her class that gets out at the same time as we are walking in. Each time they have seen each other Zach yelled Lily's name and Lily responds by shouting his name and then they both ask each other "what are YOU doing here" or "how did YOU get here?" They proceed to fall into step and walk in to the school. This morning Lily and I were at the curb of the school's sidewalk and just starting our walk to the door. Zach was at the meeting place already and he was looking around. Lily saw him, called his name excitedly and took off running. I had to chase her down with her backpack that I was carrying and grab a quick hug before she shook me off and bounded over to her friend. I heard him say that he saw her walking in. I couldn't catch the rest of the conversation but I watched them walk in to school side by side. He is a head and shoulders taller than her so he has to really slow his pace to allow her to keep up with him.

I stood there thinking that having a beautiful daughter is wonderful. I look at her sometimes and am taken aback at how big and bright her eyes are. I smile as a reflex when she smiles. She is truly lovely inside and out. I love her charm and kindness and wit. Then it hit me, boys will find these qualities just as interesting. And then I had the gut punch realization that they will notice sooner than later.

For now, I just want to savor the sweet innocence of a little boy waiting for a little girl in the morning before school. I also want to vote for the Rapunzel full-coverage dress for prom, not the slinky blue glittery number.

you are my sunshine

Thank goodness everyone in my house is healthy again. Finn was teething. Lily got really sick for the better part of this week. It has been a whirlwind of unwelcome illness in my home and I am so grateful it seems to have abated for the time being. The ever doting big sister, noting that Finn was down about his sore gums, Lily climbed up on the couch and sang to him. Mark got this video so that we can preserve these sweet memories forever.

enjoy

Video Link

Share and share alike

Back in my grandmother's day it was a point of pride to have a stocked recipe box. That box held generations old recipes written in pencil on note cards and filed in said little tin box. Women in families used to talk and cook and laugh and share. Sharing is no longer a part of the way people cook. It is all about "secret" ingredients and photo credits and the like. I am officially here to say that any food items I post on this blog are yours, dear readers. They are yours to tweak, omit ingredients, add a dash of whatever you want or claim as your own. It was so important to the ladies of past generations that they would hand down recipes and cook wonderful food that was meant to be shared and enjoyed. Getting your credit is simply a new way of ruining a great thing. If you are so self-important that you would file a claim regarding a photo of your food then please refrain from trolling my blog. A note to all of you in the dark here, I got a claim filed for not giving the URL to one of my food photos in my "mark approved" entry on this blog. The recipes are all ones I have gleaned from the depths of the internet or recipe books, honed through trial and error and presented to you, my friends. I do not always have my camera strapped to me when cooking with two youngsters traipsing about at my feet. So, for reference, I just pulled some from some other sites. As I know now, that was very bad and could have gotten my blog taken down. I will not do such an egregious act again and I beg forgiveness for my blatant and hurtful transgression.

In summation, I am so happy to have a small but loyal following who view my very occasional post about recipes or cooking. Also, I am more than pleased to tell whomever was offended that they are free to skip my page on their daily readings and go fly a kite instead.

The Giving Tree and The Golden Heart

This past summer I found a shiny green book in with the rest of the hundreds we own for the kids. The Giving Tree was one of the more formative books of my youth and I remembered really loving the message. So, Lily and I sat down and began reading it. As each page was read, understood and turned I began to feel an ominous pressure in my heart. Lily was fidgeting with her hands and looking increasingly worried. By the time we got to the cutting down of the trunk after the apple stripping and branch hacking, she was beginning to seriously fret. "I don't like the where this is going" was her exact phrase. So, when we turned to see the sad abandoned trunk she burst into tears and told me she didn't want to continue reading this awful sad book. Mark came bounding up the stairs worried something had hurt his little girl. Indeed it had. Her darling heart just couldn't take it that someone could give so much and be asked for more without so little as a thank you in repayment.

Today we went to the salon to get Lily's haircut. Our stylist asked if she wanted to take a little more than we planned off to be able to donate to Pantene's beautiful lengths program. Lily immediately agreed and got a beautiful cut and looks so sweet and older and beautiful. I was so filled with emotion at what a gentle and kind soul she is. Just now, before bed, she asked why some children don't have hair, which is how I explained it to her at the salon and she just nodded as if she understood. I asked if she really wanted to know because it is a little sad and hard to understand. She nodded vehemently and so we went online and I showed her pictures of children who are suffering and fighting through cancer and chemotherapy and have lost their hair in the fight. I explained that while the chemo attacks the bad cancer bugs it also has to be so strong that it hurts some of the good parts of you too. She asked, "like their hair?" and I said that was right. 

She then welled up a little and said, "I am going to donate my hair for the rest of my life! It isn't fair that some kids have to give up having hair because they're sick!"

She looked so adamant and defiant in the face of such a terrible disease. I couldn't help but recall her staunch disapproval and utter sadness at the thought of being left shorn and alone while reading the book that shall not be named. I get the feeling that she is wise beyond her years. She is empathetic and understanding beyond any realm of reason. It is a worry of mine that her soft heart and thin skin will do her a disservice. But after tonight, I feel like her sensitivity and loving heart give her strength and courage. She is equipped to right the wrongs and injustices in the world. To her, there is no good answer for why pain and meanness exist and I cannot help but agree. She has an inner grace and focus that sincerely stops me in my tracks. Today showed me that she may look young and fragile but she is building up an absolute stockpile of battles she will inevitably win.

My little girl is growing up. And, honestly, I love what I am seeing.

Expectations

Finn has recently started learning words at an increasingly fast rate. He will parrot back things you tell him to say. But he also remembers what certain things are called and will ask for them by name. He can say biscuit, cracker, juice, chip, bite, yogurt, fish, chicken and many other food words. He insists on calling some of his favorite things by the sound of which he has paired to said item. For instance, he won't say train. He will say woo-woo! He won't say truck he makes raspberries loudly and with much expectoration. He has added a y to the end of certain words too like hot(ty) or hat(ty).

He is extremely reactive to discipline as well. He has recently taken to laying flat on the floor between the ottoman and the couch or bonking his head into a wall or door or the floor. It is like he experiences everything so much that he overreacts to even the slightest offense. If you attempt to help him with something and you are doing it wrong he gets up, runs into our bedroom and goes underneath the bed. It is startling how quickly it happens and how fast he just snaps out if it and walks back to play again.

Just now he asked for crackers. So, I took the Ritz out of the cupboard and started untwisting the plastic sleeve. He shook his head and said no and then took off whimpering toward my bedroom. I called for him and told him I was getting him a cracker. He came back out, looked at the sleeve and took off crying again. Exasperated, I set the crackers on the hutch and went to find him. He was flat under the bed. I bellied down next to the bedframe and he crawled out the other side and ran into the kitchen. I followed him and watched him grab the crackers, walk into the living room and proceed to deftly untwist the plastic and start enjoying his snack. Apparently, what I was doing wrong was attempting to hand him the crackers individually and not in stacked and wrapped form.

When I found out I was pregnant with a boy I thought I was going to have to try harder than with my little girl to get him to start verbalizing words and showing emotions. I have found the exact opposite. He is extremely chatty and reacts really dramatically to even the slightest deviation from what he wanted to have happen.

It makes me think that my children are constant sources of surprise and are never what I expected them to be. They are so much better.

I never envisioned my five year old daughter begging her dad to make her multiplication tables to work on while eating breakfast on a Saturday morning. I never thought my little boy would be so taken with his Papas that nobody else matters if they are nearby. I hadn't expected that my son would dance and say hi/bye exactly like I do. And I never thought my daughter would be so independent and outdoorsy that she will remain outside after school for hours just playing, eating snow and exploring.

I am not one for surprises. But I love being caught off guard by the personalities of my little ones. It just goes to show that Horton was right. A person is a person, no matter how small. And these smalls have some mucho grande personalities.

Finn's Tantrum Spot

My Little Explorer and Snow Taster

Thick as Thieves

home

Home is a place that is intangible. Your house is a place you can point to on a map. You can hang a wreath on the door of a house. You can even place a Home Sweet Home mat on the entry steps. But home is different. A person can be your home. A smell or a feeling can conjure a home. I have always envisioned Wisconsin as a wonderful place to build a home. I love this state's rolling farmlands and the dichotomy of the seasons we experience here. I have always felt right living here. Until I met Mark I thought home was here in the heartland. When we fell in love though, I realized that my sense of place was deeply rooted within him. He told me once that I felt like home to him. This was very early on in our relationship. It completely blew me away thinking that I could provide that feeling of a safe haven to another person. When we moved for Mark's job to a place that was very unfamiliar both in geography and native people, I was equally terrified and exhilarated. I knew that I could make our apartment in Bakersfield our home. In fact, I worked very hard to carve our names into that albeit temporary dwelling place. Mark told me that I succeeded in making our house a home and it made me sigh with relief.

Being home to someone is a great responsibility. It takes constant care and gentle nurturing. In some cases it takes fighting to keep that home safe and sound from things that could hurt it or disrupt it.

I let a piece of what made home to me travel all the way to Africa this year. I deeply invest in my sister. I always have. She has always been this precious commodity to me. She is the part of my home that is a kindred soul, a pusher, an inspiration and one of the brightest lights in my life. Without her here, there is a piece of home that is missing from me. We are always side by side in spirit. She is always swirling around in my thoughts. I wear a piece of her clothing daily to encourage me to be better as a person. I hope the home of mine that she took with her comforts her when she is feeling lonely or overwhelmed in such a different place with such dire needs.

There are no two people more different than my sister and my husband. They are polar opposites in almost every topic imaginable. But each of them make up such a profound piece of who I am.

My pieces and fragments that construct my home are many and varied in composition and location. In this way, my sense of home can never truly be wholly in one place. I will always be missing someone or something or somewhere. But in doing this fractal home creation, I feel like I will never be homeless since all my pieces are in so many places, times and in such different types of people.